HALF 

THREE SCORE YEARS 

AND TEN 




Class _^S^^j^_ 

COPnUGHT DEPOSm 



" (I 

HALF 
THREE SCORE YEARS 

AND TEN 



By FORGET-ME-NOT 



BOSTON 

THE ROXBURGH PUBLISHING COMPANY 

INC. 






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f^^ 



Copyright 1918 

By ANNIE G. GORGAS 

All Rights Reserved 



DEC :■>£, i9i8 



INTRODUCTION 

Very late one night, close to the midnight 
hour, I was sitting in a large, comfortable 
arm-chair with my head thrown back in a 
sleeping position. It had been my desire for 
some time past to use my pencil for the 
public use, in order to exert a moral in- 
fluence upon the world. 

Recently, having attended the last sad but 
beautifully extended rites to a dear departed 
friend, the words, "Man's Life on This Earth 
is Three Score Years and Ten," kept re- 
peating themselves again and again to me, 
as I thoughtfully wended my way home 
that afternoon. Awaking from my drowsi- 
ness on the night above mentioned, I deter- 
mined to write the story of the life of a 
young woman, now at the age of "Half of 
Three Score Years and Ten." 

As a little child, she was a next-door 
neighbor of mine. We lived on neighbor- 
ing streets of the same city for more than 
thirty-five years, and I, having seen the im- 
portant events in her life during that time, 
shall be enabled to draw upon my imagina- 
tion for details. It is my desire to write a 
story as near to true life as possible. 

The Author 



HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND 
TEN 

Chapter 1. 

On one side of my home there was a very 
pretty grove of trees, but, on the other, there 
stood a two-story frame home, with a very 
attractive side-yard belonging to that dwell- 
ing. It had been vacated for some time, 
when, one day, I noticed some newcomers 
were taking possession. 

As time passed, I became very much in- 
terested in my neighbors. There were two 
little figures, who, during the summer-time 
wandered about the pretty garden. These 
were a dear little boy and girl. A short time 
previous to my determination to write this 
story, I had seen a beautiful life-represen- 
tation of the "Babes in the Woods." This 
caused my thoughts to wander back nearly 
thirty-five years, to a similar picture in that 
neighboring flower-grown garden of years 
ago. 

A brave boy at the age of six, standing, 
protectingly and lovingly, by the side of a 
little girl a trifle younger. There was a look 
of great love in the eyes of the little girl, 
as she looked up at her brother. Some beau- 
tiful, old-fashioned bleeding hearts were at- 
tracting their notice. Our little heroine, 



6 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 

handling them very gently, showed, in her 
thoughtful face, great admiration for their 
delicate beauty. A pretty grape-arbor, with 
the bunches of grapes hanging from the 
vines on the lattice-roof; some large peony 
hushes, the beautiful flowers spreading their 
pink and white petals before the admiring 
eyes of the little children ; a very pretty 
lawn and a strong rope-swing, all these con- 
tributed so much to the delight of the 
children, that they wandered about, like the 
"Babes in the Woods," with their little souls 
uplifted to the beauties of nature, and for- 
getful of all else in the world. 

There was a church in close proximity to 
the home of these little children. On Sun- 
day morning. I usually met them coming 
back from Sunday-school. What did I see 
on Sunday afternoon, as I passed their 
pretty garden, taking my accustomed Sun- 
day afternoon promenade? In a rocking- 
chair, on the side-porch of their home, facing 
the garden, sat the mother, with two little 
rocking chairs pressed close to hers, and two 
little innocent faces, listening with rapt at- 
tention, to the reading of the pretty Sun- 
day-school books brought home in the morn- 
ing. Beautiful spiritual and moral lessons, 
pouring from the lips of a devoted mother, 
will they ever cease to bear their fruit on 
the lives of little listeners? 



HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 7 

Chapter 2. 

Were these little folks in their own home? 
No ; this was grandma's. Their papa was 
away for the present. My readers, did I 
not say, that this is to be a story as near 
to true life as possible, but that I shall be 
compelled to draw upon my imagination for 
details? I am now allowing my thoughts to 
drift. Why is not this woman, whose char- 
acter is shown in a beautiful light, by its 
reflection in the lives of her children, why 
is she not in her own home, really the dear- 
est possession in the hearts of all true wo- 
men, who have children looking to them to 
bring comfort and happiness into their lives? 
I was sitting cogitating, and my experi- 
ences in life caused my thoughts to wander 
thus. Are there not many faults in some 
men's and women's characters, which cause 
a sadness, or a heart-break forever, in the 
lives of their partners in life, whom, in the 
high hopes of youth, they promise to cher- 
ish, "Till death us do part?" Then again, 
sometimes appetites, by which many allow 
themselves to become mastered ; also, often 
a sinful disobedience to our Lord's ten com- 
mandments, bringing disgrace upon, and de- 
struction to the beautiful holy family ties ; 
once more, a perfect incapability, on the 
man's part, to provide sufficient means for 
his family ; in all these instances adding sick- 
ness and misfortune, how much more should 



8 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 

we laud the other partner in life, who takes 
upon his or her shoulders the heavy burden 
of eliminating as much as possible, the sad 
results from the lives of his or her children? 

A number of weeks after this little moral- 
izing on my part, one beautiful day, I i^aw 
a gentleman appear at the garden-gate. At 
a glance, I could see that he was a gentle- 
man born and bred. How the little pair in 
the garden ran to meet him, and sat upon 
his knee, caressed and fondled him. Grand- 
ma, an elderly lady of proud bearing, was in 
the garden, a little distance from the chil- 
dren. She approached and shook hands with 
the gentleman, a stranger to me, but one in 
whom I became very much interested, on 
account of the greeting of the children. She 
sat down beside him on a garden bench, and 
what seemed to be a very earnest conversa- 
tion followed. 

As it continued, I saw the little girl's face 
grow more and more thoughtful, at last 
amounting to a very troubled expression; for 
grandma had gone into the house once, and 
why did not her mama come, and go joy- 
fully into the arms of her papa, as she had 
done? Once more, after more earnest con- 
versation, grandma arose and entered the 
house. After a space of ten minutes, she re- 
turned and the gentleman, bidding the chil- 
dren wait in the garden, entered the home. 



half three score years and ten 9 
Chapter 3. 

Winter soon put its cold mantle over all 
the beauties of the garden, at which, during 
the lovely summer-time, my gaze so often 
wandered, especially, decorated, as it so often 
had been, by human life, in the shape of two 
innocent little souls, drinking in its beauties. 
Ere she had dismantled it, the little family, 
so interesting to me, had left grandma's 
home, to form, once more, one of their own. 
During the winter, I became acquainted with 
the mother, and so learned that several 
homes had been formed, but, just as often 
relinquished. This, now, was, by compul- 
sion, to be more simple than former ones. 
Often did I visit this little home, as the 
years rolled by, and much did I see to in- 
terest me. 

How happy the look of the mother on my 
first visit! Anchored! As the ship out 
at sea! As I sat and talked with her dur- 
ing that winter, our little heroine often sat 
at the other end of the room, seemingly 
studying some frost-bitten window-panes. 
She would follow with a pencil the beautiful 
intricacies, which nature had imprinted there, 
and then, sometimes, in one corner of the 
window-pane, where the frost-bitten surface 
had not so much of nature's beautiful decor- 
ating, I would see her inscribe her name, 
Lucille. I have not before mentioned, that 
this little family was also composed of one 



10 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 

older son. He was so much the senior of 
the younger children that, during the pre- 
vious summer, I had not often seen him, as 
he was engaged in the various occupations 
of later youth. 

A couple of winters I visited thus, always 
seeing the happy expression on the mother's 
face. Then, suddenly, something happened. 
A cloud came on the beautiful, clear blue 
sky's surface, but, with it, as the mother 
gazed, a very determined look came upon 
her face. Had not many homes been formed? 
Had they not, just so often, been dissolved 
into thin air? This one must not thus van- 
ish. Her children were all now at the age, 
where a home was positively necessary to 
their comfort and happiness. As her part- 
ner in life was now once more, unable to 
assist her, then it would be advisable for 
her son to put forth extra efforts to main- 
tain it. 

Out into the world, into the busy strife, 
at a very early age, he went. All the results 
of his steadiness and perseverance were 
brought to the mother for the support of the 
home. Realizing that, in the future, his 
father's position, as head and support of the 
family, must be his, there were no efforts, 
on his part, that were not put forth in the 
bravest manner. 



half three score years and ten 11 
Chapter 4. 

Lucy usually had little playmates walk 
home from school with her. But, one day, 
a typical autumn one, a trifle hazy, a little 
cool, the many colored autumn leaves lying 
beneath her feet and she walking slowly, 
dreamily, and happily, admiring nature's 
beautiful coloring, suddenly, a little girl ac- 
costed her. 

"Lucille, your father is dead," the little 
girl said. Lucille did not cry, nor did she 
run home. But, with the same thoughtful, 
troubled look, that had come to her face in 
the garden, on that lovely summer day, she 
very steadily and perfectly silently pursued 
her way with her companion to her home. 

Then, leaving her, she quickly entered, and 
suddenly slipped into a chair. Her mother 
really did not see her enter, for she was 
pacing the floor to and fro, her head bent 
low, a very troubled expression on her 
brow, and, as she walked, she wrung her 
hands. Lucille saw her oldest brother put 
his hand on her shoulder. Something in his 
words, which she was too young to under- 
stand, brought a great change of expression 
and manner to her mother. A look of ad- 
miration and love for her son's noble char- 
acter and, also, one of quiet resignation and 
deep sadness unto this heavy sorrow, took 
the place of the previously disturbed ex- 
pression and attitude. Lucille then slipped 



12 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 

away. The mother and son needed much 
time for quiet consideration and thought. 

Ah ! But, after all that was mortal of the 
father had quietly been laid away at rest, and 
the mother had time that evening to quietly 
sit with my two little, "Babes in the Woods," 
they laid their heads in her lap, the tears 
flowed fast and they said, 

'Tt will be so lonesome to not see him any 
more." 

Dreariness possessed them. But the mother 
put away her own sorrow, and, with quiet 
beautiful words, endeavored to comfort 
them. 



HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 13 

Chapter 5. 

The next morning, life commenced anew 
for the inmates of this Httle home. The 
youthful support of the little family, now at 
a very early age, but, already, having been 
in the business world for a space of about 
four years, felt that he had the stamina 
necessary for this future work, thus thrust 
upon him. The mother feeling, instinctively, 
the confidence and nobility of her son's 
character, and above all, as always during 
previous periods of sorrow, trusting to her 
Father in Heaven to help her, won the 
strength of soul and body to maintain this 
home for her children and herself. 

As she sat with them at the fire-side 
during the winter evenings, her thoughts so 
often wandered to the time, when she was 
a little girl like Lucy, sitting so close at her 
side. At that time, she had an elderly great- 
aunt, who had raised Lucy's grandma, and 
who lived in the country. There she visited 
to her great delight. So she would tell 
Lucy. It was before our Civil War, which 
brought about the Emancipation of Slavery 
in our United States. Sitting dreaming, 
talking, she saw once more the old-fashioned 
open fire-place in the country home, the pots 
and kettles hanging, and the cook sitting, 
dozing, nodding before the fire. She told 
Lucy how one cook, thus, had really fallen 



14 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 

over the embers, and had been so injured as 
to cause her death. 

How horror-stricken Lucy felt at that 
relation of her mother, and how silently 
thankful, that now closed stoves are used 
more than the open fires. 

This aunt had told Lucy's mama that, in 
her youth, she had heard the sounds of the 
Revolution in the distance. Lucy having 
much imaginative power, saw in her mind's 
eye, a battle actually progressing, with the 
soldiers dressed in the garb of the olden 
days, knee-breeches, long coats, and three- 
cornered hats. As the wind moaned through 
the chimney, and the fire grew warmer and 
brighter, Lucy thought how happy her mama 
must have been, out in the country on a 
large plantation, seeing the cotton-picking, 
and having some one to tell her about the 
days of George Washington, for it now gave 
Lucy so much pleasure to read about them. 
With a happy, wondering dream, Lucy sat 
and thought about the beautiful woods, 
which her mother described from her re- 
membrance of them, as she walked through 
on her way, to and from school. 



half three score years and ten 15 
Chapter 6. 

Lucy's mother, in this sad epoch of her 
life, after the death of her husband, natur- 
ally, in her periods of quiet restfulness in 
the evenings with her family gathered about 
her, gave way to reminiscence. Thus, as a 
little child, Lucy lived with her mother the 
life of her child-hood and youth. Such 
great pleasure her mother had gained, in 
wandering in beautiful summer weather 
through the different parts of the plantation. 
How enjoyable to a child, accustomed to 
city-life ! Once more, her mother saw, with 
Lucy, all the family and colored help assem- 
bled at prayer each evening with their 
missus, her great-aunt, a very elderly lady, 
repeating the prayer. 

Lucy's mother, naturally an old-fashioned 
child, had become more and more so, on 
account of the frequent visits to the elderly 
lady. At last, as they were repeated again 
and again, the good old lady, who loved her, 
and whom she loved so well, began to wan- 
der in the vagaries of old age, and, at times, 
she did not know her, making Lucy's 
mother feel very sad and bewildered at this 
change. At last, on one always remembered 
visit, her soul had passed to the most beau- 
tiful realm. She left her home, and all her 
earthly possessions to the management of one 
daughter. After this change at this old 
southern home, Lucy's mama had traveled 



16 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 

with her parents very much further into the 
southern part of our country, to form a new 
home there. How well she remembered the 
warm hospitality, with which her parents' 
new friends greeted them there, and her 
family's and her happy life in this warmth ! 
After a few years, another change came. 
They traveled to a large, very refined and 
cultivated, northern city to live. The events 
of the Civil War passed swiftly by in Lucy's 
mama's mind. All of the colored help had 
been freed, in the early stages of the war, 
by the new mistress on the old plantation. 
She was, as her mother had been, very much 
loved by her help on the farm and about the 
house. Some still clung to her for support 
and help, even after full freedom had been 
granted. We need not say confidence, but 
love and kindness granted by one in power; 
sometimes, nay, we may say often, they are 
requited sadly by natures incapable of ap- 
preciation. But if only for the sake of 
finding a few beautiful natures let all, to 
whom God grants power over his or her 
fellow-creatures, make all possible use of 
these sweet weapons. 



HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 17 

Chapter 7. 

One evening, how well Lucy remembered 
it, this much loved mother told her, that a 
few years before the war, she had married 
her papa. After the war, the effect which 
it had made upon their finances, caused them 
to make a change of home several hundred 
miles distance. Great financial energy, at 
that time, was predominant in a little town 
in the central western part of our country, 
and, to this little town, her mama and papa, 
with the oldest son, traveled. To the young 
man of family then, this was the place, in 
which to build up fallen fortunes. New set- 
tlers, from all parts of the world, made it 
very cosmopolitan. How different the lift, 
to the one to which Lucy's mama had been 
accustomed! What snow-storms our youth 
will often brave, with a view to fortune! 
How some work through with time and pa- 
tience, steadiness and perseverance, into the 
beautiful warm days and golden sunshine! 
How some are chilled by the cold and frost, 
and never enjoy that following warmth! 

The great success of the West did not fall 
upon this little family during the father's 
life-time, and so, we find Lucy, our little 
heroine, Lucille, living, not in a very hand- 
some home, with the accompaniments of 
riches surrounding her, but in a sweet, simple 
little one, her whole nature imbued with her 
mother's great love for her and the other 



18 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 

members of the family. She had been born 
in this Httle rude western town, a few years 
after the family's change of residence to it. 
During the decade of years comprising the 
few previous to her birth, and the few fol- 
lowing, the foundations of fortunes had been 
laid in many families. At the expiration of 
this term of years, Lucy's oldest brother 
started in his business activity. For a num- 
ber of years much success was granted to 
him, which gradually threw its beautiful 
glow upon the lives of all the family. Dreams 
of love came to him, but owing to the rough 
path before one shouldering so much re- 
sponsibility, they never brought that happi- 
ness of a much-loved partner in life to him. 
The little rude western town developed 
very quickly into an enterprising city. Un- 
graded streets were succeeded by paved 
graded ones. Small homes of some early 
settlers were given up by them for hand- 
some, well-built residences. The rapid 
growth in population and their accumulating 
wealth, caused very large business build- 
ings, banks, theatres, libraries, churches, and 
art-buildings to be erected. In this new 
life of this city, Lucille's oldest brother's 
youthful business activity brought more and 
more success to him. The sweet simple 
little home was retained, but, in it, more 
luxuries of life were gradually brought by 
the young man, devoting the fruits of his 
labor to bringing more and more happiness 



HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 19 

each day, into the life of his mother and our 
sweet Httle "Babes in the Woods." 



20 half three score years and ten 
Chapter 8. 

The sweet love of young brother and 
sister ! How interesting to encounter it ! 
Our little ones wandered through the years 
of youth together, at least, until within a 
few years of Lucy's brother reaching man- 
hood. Then that sad visitor. Death, dark, 
foreboding, and mournful to those left to 
grieve, but which brings, according to the 
beautiful promises of the Bible, a far more 
beautiful life to all those deserving and of 
faith, that messenger called Lucy's brother. 
This laid the foundation of a great change 
in her future life. The mother, in her deep 
sorrow, none the less perceiving and fear- 
ing the sad effect upon the youth and health 
of Lucy, planned for her to go to the scene 
of her own youth. 

Among her mother's friends and relatives 
Lucille met with a most welcome greeting, 
bringing cheerfulness and new scenes into 
her life. On the first evening of her ar- 
rival, as she entered the large salon parlor 
of her mother's dearest friend, a young gen- 
tleman of age similar to that of Lucille's 
oldest and now only brother, approached with 
extended hand and warm welcome to meet 
her. It was a very warm evening and the 
large room was lit only by the light from 
the hall, shining through the opened folding 
doors into the parlor. Lucille was much 
pleased with this, for she felt quite travel- 



liALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 21 

worn. She could not well distinguish the 
face of this new friend. But his very cour- 
teous, hospitable manner very quickly put 
her at ease, and they were soon conversing 
very comfortably together. 

The room was really very stifling with 
heat that evening, and Winifred asked Lu- 
cille, and a young lady and gentleman visit- 
ing with them that evening, to take a little 
evening promenade. Winifred was the only 
son, and, in fact, had always been the only 
child of Lucille's mother's dear friend. After 
her long travel during this warm weather, it 
was very refreshing to Lucille to reach the 
cooler air without, and Winifred seemed to 
fall quite easily at her side, the other couple 
in advance. He was very much interested 
in her conversation about that western coun- 
try which he had never visited. Yes. But 
from the first moment that he had gazed 
upon the thoughtful face of his little new 
friend, a new feeling had sprung into his 
life. 

A sudden happiness seemed to have shot 
into his heart, as he walked the prettily lit 
streets of the large city that evening. "There 
is something unfathomable and a purity about 
her face," thought he. "She has not beauti- 
ful clear-cut features," pursued he, "why am 
I so interested? Then also," pursued his 
mentor, "she is a child to me." Suddenly, 
in her conversation, she raised her face, and 
a light nearby threw its full reflection upon 



22 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 

it. His mentor troubled him no more. A 
peace seemed to enter his soul, and, with it, 
these words, "In the eyes, the windows of 
the soul, I see a beautiful and spiritual 
depth." 

Remember, he was not a boy, but a man, 
a number of years Lucille's senior. Hence 
the brown study. And, Lucille, she was yet 
but a child in her thoughts, very much 
pleased with her companion's courtesy, but 
without any self-consciousness. Winifred 
found, as he pursued his conversation, that 
she was extremely fond of natural beauty. 
They had found a mutual interest, and dur- 
ing the weeks of Lucille's visit to her 
mother's friend, it caused many beautiful 
drives, walks, and rides on horse-back to be 
taken through a most picturesque and ro- 
mantic country, surrounding this old-time 
southern city. She now saw the beautiful 
country scenes, of which she used to dream 
at the fire-side with her mother. Now in 
reality, those beautiful woods were before 
her, and at a most entrancing time of the 
year, autumn giving the tinge of many beau- 
tiful shades to the leaves of the fine old 
majestic trees. 

The grand old chestnut trees, some of the 
burrs lying beneath partly split, thus showed 
their readiness to yield their fruit. To her 
great delight, occasionally, she caught a 
glimpse of a deer in the distance among the 
trees. With great pleasure Winifred watch- 



HALF THREE SCORE VEARS AND TEN 23 

ed the beautiful light suddenly come into 
the eyes of his youthful companion, as her 
soul was satiated, from time to time, by 
some special natural beauty. Then, again, 
with equal sympathy, he saw the light as 
quickly fade, and dreaminess and sorrow 
take its place, caused by the soul suddenly 
taking flight to the dear mother and home, 
now many miles distant, and resting for a 
few moments in the beautiful blue depths 
above, with thoughts of that dear lost 
brother, who had from her earliest remem- 
brance trod the path of life with her. 



24 half three score years and ten 
Chapter 9. 

Lucille's heart was always filled with de- 
light at the sight of the architecture, belong- 
ing to the time of our colonists, resting 
among the picturesque hills and valleys of 
the country, which, she felt certain, must 
have reminded the early settlers of the beau- 
tiful English mother country. They had left 
upon an eminence, overlooking an especial 
verdant valley, a red brick church to which 
Winifred took Lucille one Sunday. To her, 
the silence of the country never seemed so 
great as in this country church-yard, when 
she heard it broken by the descendants of 
those sleeping in the many graves, and high 
red-bricked tombs with marble slabs sur- 
mounting them. Alighting from their car- 
riages, they tied their horses to the trunks 
of the trees. Some had driven for several 
miles, for the valley was of wide extent, and 
was filled with many homes with many acres 
surrounding. Slowly wandering through the 
church-yard, with the hearty greetings of 
neighbors of many years, they entered the 
church. 

On that perfect summer Sunday morning, 
beneath the shade of a grand old tree, Lu- 
cille stood, silently observant, while Winifred 
fastened the horse. Then they, as the others 
had done, walked through the paths of the 
interesting church-yard of a hundred and 
fifty years origin. At one side of the church, 



HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 25 

there was a sudden descent of the eminence 
and here, the beauty of the surrounding 
hilly country, covered with piney and other 
beautiful vegetation, was visible. Surely, it 
is only natural, that Lucille entered this 
church with more than usual solemnity, and 
dreaminess, thinking of the many souls that 
had worshipped at this altar. This was 
Communion Sunday, and never before had 
the admonition of not accepting it unless at 
peace with all fellow-men, been so impressive 
as here. What she had just left, the peace, 
beauty, and perfection of all without, seemed 
to especially demand it. 

Winifred noticed the unusual silence of his 
little new friend but he understood and at- 
tributed it to its right cause. She had not, 
in her native heath, seen the beauty of his- 
torical interest mixed with the beauty of 
nature. Winifred had passed through his 
school-days, and through his preparation for 
what he intended to be his life-work, which 
he, himself, had chosen, and which he en- 
joyed. His work, at present, however, was 
such that there were certain hours each day, 
which he could use for his own pleasure. 
Lucille had not finished her school-life. She 
was to return to it as soon as this pleasant 
visit to her mother's friend, was terminated. 
During Lucille's visit, lasting a month, nearly 
every day it seemed to be according to Wini- 
fred's courtesy and desire, to make her visit 
a pleasant one, to spend his leisure hours 



26 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 

with her, either in conversation, as she sat 
on the leather cushioned window-seat of the 
large drawing-room, in which he had first 
met her, or in out-of-door pleasures. 

On warm days she liked to sit there, with 
the window open, giving her a view of the 
street beneath. She had read many books of 
worth, and took pleasure in conversing about 
them, and was very glad to receive for her 
entertainment, books, brought to her by 
Winifred, out of the home library. After 
she had left, did he miss the pensive face, 
often so absorbed in a book, that she would 
often not at first notice his entrance? Lucille 
carried home with her keen appreciation of 
her new friend's courtesy and desire for her 
pleasure during her visit. Through his kind- 
ness, she had seen so much that she desired 
to see. 

She would never forget the homes built 
during the colonial days, the little window- 
panes and many of these to every window, 
the tall, round, thick, white stucco pillars 
supporting the heavy roofs of the piazzas, 
the cupolas, the top center-pieces of the 
homes, and their oblong and square fronts. 
Most of all to be remembered by her, were 
the many romantic and beautiful situations 
of these country places. Here, she saw an 
old home situated close to a mill-race, with 
the weeping-willows overhanging. There, 
another, high up on a hill with a winding 
river beneath, and sometimes, also, a forest, 



HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 27 

close by, with its paths leading to the beau- 
tiful stream. 

Little boat-houses, she often saw, built 
close to the water's edge. Many little out- 
lying houses for help often surrounded the 
old family residences, with, of course, gar- 
dens and lawns lying between. The de- 
serted parlors, of the old home by the mill, 
were now filled with sacks of produce from 
the farm. The owner of the place had left 
many years since, and the present working 
tenant used the old family-home for a store- 
house. Very far from a public turn-pike, 
was the old home, with the weeping willows 
standing close by, as if lamenting the deser- 
tion of the owner. A white stucco, oblong- 
shaped, three story building, it stood, and, as 
Lucille looked, she felt in her heart a love 
for it, because it reminded her of the colonial 
days of our country. 



28 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 

Chapter 10. 

October, Lucille had passed with her new 
friends. Two weeks of that time, Winifred's 
mother had entertained her in her country 
home, several miles distant from the city. It 
was at this time that Lucille had been enabled 
to see the remote country homes, and roman- 
tically situated church. But now the time had 
come for her to return home. As the train 
started to glide away from the old-time city, 
and the country which had so much interested 
her, she looked from the car-window to wave 
a last adieu to Winifred and his mother, who 
had endeavored to do all in their power to 
make her visit a delightful one. Lucille was 
surprised to see a look of deep regret, amount- 
ing to sadness, upon Winifred's face. 

As she traveled towards the West, through 
our beautiful eastern country, mountainous 
and romantic, her dreams were most happy 
ones. For the change of scene had put her 
health, naturally not the most robust, upon a 
firmer basis, bringing bright thoughts of the 
renewal of her mind's trainer, school-life. For 
a few years, she continued in it. During this 
time, her brother, by his natural talent, energy, 
and steadiness of character, had developed 
into a most successful man of business, re- 
spected and admired by all who came in con- 
tact with him in his work, and very much 
loved by those at the head of his special busi- 
ness. 



HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 29 

Nothing in the shape of liberality from the 
success of his work, was spared to render the 
lives of his father's family most happy. The 
mother went back to the scenes of her child- 
hood, youth, and early married life, carrying 
with her great pride in her son's early man- 
hood and beneficence. How beautiful the 
fruit a life given up to the efforts of making 
others happy! Also, for many years, he was 
a very happy man, enjoying the results of 
his success. But, to all, many, many years of 
life in this world. Our Father in Heaven does 
not deem it in his great wisdom to grant. 
Just at the time, when Lucille was about to 
emerge from her school-life into the broader 
field of life's experience, everything suddenly 
grew black before her. Her brother, whom 
she respected, admired and loved with her 
whole heart, was suddenly stricken with a 
severe malady. 



30 half three score yearig and ten 

Chapter 11. 

Lucille sat in the little sitting-room of the 
home, in which she had now lived ever since 
she was a little girl, and, at this time she 
feared that a new stage of her existence was 
beginning. Her school-books lay upon her 
lap, and upon the table at her side, and, with 
the aid of a reading-lamp, she was perusing 
them. But, while doing so, a new idea seemed 
to be constantly presenting itself to her. 
"Might I not be enabled to do something in 
the future towards my own support?" This 
idea was dim and vague ; but, while her loved 
brother lay in an adjoining room, really in an 
unconscious condition from the severity of 
his sickness, was it not natural that a feeling 
should come to Lucille, that, sometime in the 
future, dependence upon self might be abso- 
lutely necessary? A few weeks before the 
commencement of Lucille's brother's illness, 
Winifred had decided to carry his work to 
Lucille's native city. A great friendship and 
love had sprung up between her brother and 
Winifred, and, during the five weeks that he 
lay unconscious, and with the malady which 
daily gained headway, in spite of the efforts 
on the part of those who loved him and took 
the greatest interest in him, Winifred never 
left his bed-side, except for a few hours. His 
greatest desire was to save, if possible, for 
Lucille and her mother this treasured brother 
and son. 



HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 31 

As Lucille entered the room, during the 
fifth week of that terrible illness, and stood 
with an almost despairing anxiety in her face, 
Winifred, with the same look and tone, said, 
"If I can only tide you over for a few days, 
old fellow." Lucille never forgot these words, 
nor the terrible sickening fear which chilled 
her heart. Ah! How pale, what a terrible 
worn face, instead of that bright brother of 
five weeks before! The fever was wasting 
him, day by day, nothing would make it loosen 
its hold. If it would but be controlled, then 
a chance of life might be. Lucille understood. 
She realized that, if this did not happen in 
two or three days, then all hope of keeping this 
dear idolized brother with them on this earth, 
would have to vanish from her heart. 

Alas ! It was but a short time and all was 
over. In despair, the mother and Lucille were 
left. Providence had deemed it fit that this 
much loved soul on this earth should take its 
flight to that world of perfection, where no 
such wasting away, such as his had been, nor 
such sickening despair and grief, such as Lu- 
cille and her mother lived through, exist. My 
readers, I shall not dwell here long in this 
house of grief. It wrings my heart. His 
companions, strong, hearty men, loved him so 
dearly, that they sobbed aloud. A life, joyful, 
bright, helpful, always at the helm ready to do 
for others, it had brought its own results, 
great grief, love, and admiration from all those 
with whom he had come in contact. "Thy 



32 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 

will be done." It is most difficult to say, 
truthfully. But it must, if looked on in the 
right light, have a soothing effect. For it 
illumines in this way, that Our Father in 
Heaven, always Lucille's mother's comforter, 
in His great wisdom, knows why and where- 
for. 



half three score years and ten 33 

Chapter 12. 

Lucille had now drifted into a troubled sea. 
Her future rocked itself in terrible uncer- 
tainty before her. She had felt so safe with 
that noble brother to protect her. Determina- 
tion at once came to her, to prepare herself, 
as quickly as possible, for some work in the 
world. For several months, days and nights 
were spent preparing herself for this new 
life. Circumstances soon carried her into a 
very small town, in which she was to carry 
on this avocation. There were but a few 
houses, and the most predominant object, on 
looking at the town, was prairie. 

In the spring and autumn to Lucille's eyes, 
the town had its own sweet, simple beauty, as 
the wild flowers, with many colors decorated 
the fields. But how often her heart sank, 
when she viewed the town, stripped of this 
redeeming feature, and in its place simply 
tall, brown grasses, or, in the winter, snow 
covering all. The wind! It had full sweep, 
and, in the bitter cold weather, many times 
Lucille could scarcely wend her way to her 
destination. 

Winifred: how he loved Lucille! He was 
unable to keep his secret from her longer. 
Lucille never could forget his simple words. 
But this was all so new. She had never 
thought of it before. She would not tell him, 
she would not say that the future would not 
bring to him that answer, which he so longed 



34 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 

for at once. But time, that wonderful soother 
of great sorrows, such as Lucille's and her 
mother's was for the dearly loved brother and 
son, and that wonderful worker in bringing 
a result of love, in the place of esteem and 
confidence, must have its influence. Lucille 
did not love her work, but success came to 
her, on account of application and industry. 



HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 35 

Chapter 13. 

Three years have elapsed since Winifred 
had uttered the ever treasured words of love. 
I am sitting in a small church of beautiful 
architecture. As the beautiful strains of the 
wedding march begin, I turn my head to see 
the bride advance. Yes. It is Lucille and, 
with a smile of perfect love and confidence, 
she is met at the altar by Winifred. It is 
decorated with palms and simple flowers. As 
I sit and listen to the tones of the bride, 
through the otherwise impressive silence, such 
is my silent prayer. "May I always hear such 
convincing firmness from the lips of all brides, 
in the repetition of the service which ends, till 
Death us do part." 

Shall I now leave my bride and groom 
under an umbrella tree, with its leaves tinged 
forever with golden sunshine? No. Just as 
this is impossible in nature, so shall I not 
leave them thus. But I shall continue my 
little bit of true life, until my bride reaches the 
age of "Half of Three Score Years and Ten." 
I noticed particularly as the mother passed 
through the aisle of the church, following 
Lucille and Winifred, the very happy ex- 
pression upon her face. As we chatted to- 
gether one afternoon succeeding this event, I 
detected the reason. The faithfulness and 
devotion of Winifred to her much loved, lost 
son during: his terrible illness, and his con- 
stancy, always evinced towards Lucille 



36 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 

through the years since she was but a child, 
made her feel certain of her daughter's future 
happiness. 

As I had visited my friends the many years 
past, so now I visited them for a number of 
years. I saw Lucille, in her happiness with 
her mother and husband, in their now pretty 
and more pretentious home than the one of 
former years. There, certainly, were not 
many shadows upon the tree covered with the 
golden sunshine, only those caused by the or- 
dinary events of this world, in which perfec- 
tion does not exist. Through the years a 
little family gathered about the Christmas tree, 
always lit by Grandma with more happiness 
each year. But, this Christmas, as the snow 
lies so pure and white over all without, and 
the beautiful tall tree, within the large parlor, 
brings an exclamation of delight from the 
cheerful voices of the little folks, Lucille 
stands sad and unable to light it, this Christ- 
mas night. For Grandma is with her ever- 
trusted Father in Heaven. 

Winifred notices, at once, the expression 
on his wife's face, and, advancing very quick- 
ly to her, clasps her hand. 

"Lucille," he said, "for my sake, try to not 
live in thoughts of lonesomeness without her." 
I have been thinking, as I have watched you 
looking so sad, you are now at Half of Three 
Score Years and Ten, and she reached the end 
of the allotment of Man's Life on this Earth. 
You have to comfort and guide you the beau- 



HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 37 

tiful light of Half of Three Score Years and 
Ten of mother's and child's companionship, 
love, and experience reflected over your future 
pathway, which we trust will be another Half 
of Three Score Years and Ten. May that 
light help you in the guidance of this little 
future generation." Lucille, smiling through 
the glistening tears gathered about the large, 
thoughtful eyes, said with determination, "I 
will leave these dew drops on the flowers of 
last night. Also, it was my intention, Winifred 
on this Christmas night, to repeat a few words 
to you, which have helped me of late, when 
my head has been hot with the fever of sor- 
row." 

Self-Dependence. 

Weary of myself, and sick of asking 
What I am and what I ought to be, 
At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me 
Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea. 

And a look of passionate desire 

O'er the sea and to the stars I send : 

"Ye who from my childhood up have calm'd 

me. 
Calm me, ah, compose me to the end!'* 

"Ah, once more," I cried, "ye stars, ye waters, 
On my heart your mighty charm renew. 
Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you. 
Feel my soul becoming vast like you." 



38 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 

From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of 

heaven, 
Over the lit sea's unquiet way, 
In the rustling night-air came the answer : 
Would'st thou be as these are ? Live as they ? 

"Unaffrighted by the silence round them, 

Undistracted by the sights they see. 

These demand not that the things without 

them 
Yield them love, amusement, sympathy. 

"And with joy the stars perform their shining 
And the sea its long moon-silver'd roll. 
For self -poised they live, nor pine with noting 
All the fever of some differing soul. 

"Bounded by themselves, and unregardful 
In what state God's other works may be. 
In their own tasks all their powers pouring 
These attain the mighty life you see." 

— born voice! long since, severely clear, 
A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear, 
"Resolve to be thyself ; and know that he 
Who finds himself, loses his misery!" 

— Mathezv Arnold. 



"TWO BUNCHES OF VIOLETS." 
Chapter 1. 

The tall, straight pine trees stood like sen- 
tinels at the water's edge. A small boat was 
being moved slightly by the zephyr wmds, as 
if inviting one desiring meditation. A young 
man, with a very disturbed expression of 
countenance, threw himself very hurriedly 
into the little messenger of the sea, loosened 
its hold upon land, and was soon drifting, in 
the quiet waters of the river, toward the 
more undulating surface of a beautiful blue 
expanse of sea in the distance. The lines ot 
perturbation began to relax, as the charm ot 
the deep began to lay its hold upon him. Soon 
the little fairy boat gayly entered the lovely 
sea, and then all was peace in the young man s 
attitude and look. . ^ . , 

"Some day, I shall love a maid of the sea, 
he soliloquized, "Very long, rippling light 
hair, must I see, and eyes of the depth of this 
blue of the sea. A f orm^,^ as proud in its bear- 
insf, as yonder pine tree." 

Dotted, here and there, upon the waters 
surrounding him, were many varieties of navi- 
gation, for a harbor and a fort lay very near. 
The war vessels stood so proud and fearless, 
the ocean freight steamers appeared so sturdy, 
their rusty iron sides evincing, that they had 



40 "two bunches of violets" 

held their own with the waters through dis- 
tances of many miles. 

But the sailing vessels seemed to be the 
most attractive to the young man's dreamy 
condition. Two, three, or five masts, all had 
the same light appearance on the sea, the most 
harmonious bearing through the atmosphere 
and water. 

Suddenly the wheels of some excursion 
steamers, making a noise upon the sea by their 
steadily continued rotations, turned the young 
man's eyes toward them, and away from the 
masts, ropes and gracefully turned sails. His 
yacht was far enough away, to not be caught 
in the swell of the water caused by the large 
steamers steadily ploughing their way. 

Slowly his eyes sought the deck of the one 
nearer to him. His peaceful expression sud- 
denly took wings and flew away. The steam- 
er, bringing its burden from land, had dis- 
pelled the sea's fairy powers. Many handker- 
chiefs, of a very gay party on deck, had waved 
to him. His eyes, wandering far across the 
sea to the opposite shore, saw the very large 
and beautiful hotel built at its edge. His 
thoughts brought to him many clear pictures 
of evening cotillions and moonlit strolls at 
the water's edge with that bright, fashionable, 
worldly party. The«re was one, especially, 
who had always sought him, pre-eminently, 
during those evenings, and it was her hand- 
kerchief, that had had the greatest power in 
dispelling the charm of the sea. 



"two bunches of violets'* 41 

"Some day, I hope she will be yours, my 
son." Again, the same words were ringing 
with discordant sounds, as they had done a 
few hours ago, when he had descended the 
steps of his mother's beautiful colonial home, 
with its thick columns in front reaching nearly 
to the height of the house. 



42 ''two bunches of violets" 

Chapter 2. 

A young men's college had a very beautiful 
situation in a small town many hundreds of 
miles distant from the site of Claire's mother's 
beautiful colonial home. A part of the vil- 
lage lay low, nestled close to a most charming 
river, but, another was built on a very high 
bluff, overlooking a very large and beautiful 
lake. The most prominent building on the 
bluflF was the rambling university, from the 
windows of which one could not see land in 
any direction across the lake. 

At one of these windows stood Claire, now 
at the age of twenty-one, and feeling that 
freedom should now be his. He was very 
glad to leave his home a few months after 
his mother had expressed to him her cherished 
desire for his future. She had abundant 
means, and, he knew well, that all would be 
his, should he accede to her wishes, and very 
little should he not. 

He certainly needed a fortune for the fu- 
ture. He had never yet learned how to work. 
Now, these two years, which he intended to 
spend here, would be, for the most part, a 
pastime. He knew that. Living at a mari- 
time place, and, by nature, loving the water, 
he had, from early boyhood, spent a great part 
of his life in the pleasures of the sea. 

His ideal was not one of worldly affectations 
but of simplicity. "At least, the pleasures of 
the water are to me here, also, and now, with 



"two bunches of violets" 43 

this new, swift flying auto, I shall hope to find 
a new pleasure in reconnoitering this sur- 
rounding country, new to me." 



44 

Chapter 3. 

Elaine's piazza was a bower of green during 
the summer, for the vines had nearly suc- 
ceeded in covering the entire front of her very 
piquant home. A large lawn surrounding, and 
a beautiful variety of trees, assisted in making 
a perfect picture, when Elaine stood at the 
portal of the vines. 

"What is more rare than a day in June, 
Then, if ever, come perfect days." 

— Lowell, 

Everything breathed of this as Elaine step- 
ped forth from the vine enclosure to allow the 
sunshine to dry the long golden tresses falling 
below her waist. She quickly passed into the 
side garden less exposed to passers-by. 

As she was standing, with her head bent 
slightly to shield her eyes from the dazzling 
sun, a young man suddenly slipped from a 
hammock beneath the trees of an adjacent 
garden, and, with the long strides accompany- 
ing an honest sturdy manly form, very quickly 
took his place at Elaine's side. 

She laughed a little at first, in her surprise. 
Then, as if suddenly recollecting something, 
she drew herself very proudly erect, turning 
her face away from the sun towards the usu- 
ally very quiet street. Just at that moment 
however an automobile slowly passed. 

John Hayden suddenly remarked, "An ele- 
gant auto, Elaine. I have never seen any- 
thing so handsome as that in our small city 



"two bunches of violets" 45 

before. But," suddenly dropping his voice 
lower, "I did not come to speak about every 
day affairs, but something the nearest of all 
to me for future life. I am going far away, 
Elaine, to seek my fortune. I know I am 
very young, Elaine, nineteen, and you a year 
younger. But my feeling of love for you is 
so strong, it is that of a man's heart." 

"Do not stop me," as she made a sudden 
gesture, "I beg of you to have patience but for 
a moment. Pray, forgive me for snatching 
the sudden kiss of yesterday. Remember, we 
have played together from childhood. And 
then," thoughtfully, "can you not remember 
when, sometimes, I would snatch a light kiss 
after a quarrel just as yesterday." 

"I am deeply sorry to have gained your dis- 
pleasure, and will you not give to me, as an 
offering of peace and possibly of a little future 
hope, that 'bunch of violets pinned to your 
kimona ?' " 

Her form had long since lost its hauteur, 
and in simplicity, surprise, dreaminess, she 
stood. Obediently she placed the flowers in 
his honest grasp. Simply and reverently he 
kissed them and said, *'Good-by, Elaine." 



46 ''two bunches of violets" 

Chapter 4. 

Serenity seemed to be the motive of this 
day, a week later, when Claire with a friend 
to accompany him, guided his automobile down 
the steep descending road-side from the col- 
lege to the town. As Claire and Beaumont 
looked at the very quiet waters of the large 
lake, which the college overlooked, constantly 
seen from time to time through the openings 
between the bushes and trees by the road-side, 
Claire began to talk meditatively and con- 
fidentially to his friend. 

"It was a week ago to-day, Beaumont, be- 
neath this same beautiful blue reflection on 
high that I saw, in this quaint little maritime 
city of yours, the realization of an inspira- 
tion of a maid of the sea, which has many 
times occurred to me on account of my great 
love for the water." 

"My auto glided on almost without my 
knowing it, after I had seen that picture, no 
longer one of a dream, but one of life to me 
now." 

Beaumont leaned forward placing an hon- 
est, sympathetic helpful arm upon his new 
friend's shoulder. He had lived in this city 
all of his life, and Claire knew well was a 
very highly respected son of a citizen highly 
honored for many years in this city. 

He knew that the prestige of an introduc- 
tion from him would nearly place him upon 
the footing of a near friend at once. 



47 

The auto glided on, leaving the steep de- 
scending path merging into a level driveway, 
which tended for some distance toward a 
bridge, conducting them to the other part of 
the city in close proximity to the river. Then, 
quickly leaving the business part of the city, 
and traversing the handsomely built boule- 
vards, it took a sudden left-wheel into the less 
pretentious parts of the city. 

Then the force of Beaumont's honest na- 
ture could not help giving vent. "Where are 
you taking me? I fully expected to recog- 
nize your ideal in one of our handsome 
homes." Claire calmly answered, *Tn a few 
minutes you will understand." The machine 
continued its action through several streets of 
simple homes, with pretty lawns surrounding 
them. 

When Claire stretched his arm forth, indi- 
cating Elaine's simple home, so enhanced by 
the beauties of nature, Beaumont said heart- 
ily, "you have chosen the rare simple beauty 
of our Httle town. Since a child, she has al- 
ways been admired and respected. The early 
death of her mother made her the comfort of 
her father's simple home." 

Claire had hoped for another beautiful 
vision of Elaine to-day, specially choosing a 
day favored to perfection by the elements, as 
the one a week ago. Unwillingly he turned 
his machine back towards the down-town dis- 
trict. 



48 "two bunches of violets" 

Chapter 5. 

Beaumont, at once, began to talk to Claire 
about many subjects relative to the university- 
teams, and many other pleasant social futuri- 
ties. It did not occur to him that his f riend^s 
dream amounted to more than many which he, 
himself, had had and which up to this time 
had very quickly been forgotten. 

But, suddenly, as the machine was very 
near to the cement pavement in front of one 
of the finest ladies' suit stores of the small city, 
Beaumont placed a deterring hand upon 
Claire's arm, whereupon he stopped the ma- 
chine at once and Beaumont alighted. Claire 
scarcely had time to turn his head in Beau- 
mont's direction, when the words were said, 
"Miss Tresmore, will you allow me to intro- 
duce to you, my friend, Mr. Fairfax? 

Claire acknowledged the introduction with 
the gallantry of a gentleman accustomed to 
the most refined ladies' society, which fell 
with very welcome impressions upon Elaine's 
naturally refined senses. And all the time 
Claire was inwardly in a whirl of delight for 
he had at last accomplished his object of the 
day, and he also found Elaine just as beau- 
tiful and pleasing to his eyes in her neat, plain, 
beautifully-fitting tailor-made costume, and 
hat most gracefully shaped and trimmed, as 
in her simple garb in the garden resembling 
his dream of a maid of the sea. 

"Of course you know," continued Beaumont 



"two bunches of violets" 49 

in his very honest straight- forward manner, 
"that I have been attending lectures up on the 
hill during this year. I suppose my father 
has probably mentioned it 'to yours, as I 
sometimes hear him speak of talking with 
him on the street. My friend, Claire," mo- 
tioning in his direction, "and I have had some 
most jolly times together. All the boys make 
the walls of the old "U" ring." 

"But I was thinking the other day, that, 
during our vacation Claire and I would enjoy 
very much some pleasant visits with some 
young ladies of my acquaintance. May we 
possibly ask you to be the first on our list 
after our closing festivities ?" 

Elaine felt complimented by the request, for 
she knew her father had the highest respect 
for this son and his father, who was a man of 
wealth and honorary position in their town. 
She thus expressed herself in a very pretty, 
simple manner. Claire had also alighted some 
time since from the machine, and was stand- 
ing by Beaumont's side. 

As Elaine, after bidding adieu, started to 
take her departure, Claire brushed a little 
near to her, thus tossing a beautiful bunch of 
violets, loosely fastened to her jacket, be- 
neath his foot. 



50 "two bunches of violets'* 

Chapter 6. 

Elaine's father was so proud of his daugh- 
ter's beauty, and great refinement of taste in 
dress, that he could, according to his judg- 
ment, only consider it as a natural sequence, 
that sons of gentlemen of wealth should visit 
his daughter. 

But, not so, the old housekeeper, with whom 
the mother had entrusted Elaine when but a 
child, begging her to stay and watch over her 
for as many years as it lay in her power. 

Claire's elegant machine was seen so many 
times a most admired object in Elaine's simple 
neighborhood. Whispered warnings from 
Cordelia fell on deaf ears with Elaine. She 
had never been so happy before and that 
beautiful light coming into her eyes made lier 
perfectly irresistable to Claire. Beaumont 
had called with him once or twice, and then 
had gone away for a summer vacation trip 
with his family. 

Many beautiful evenings before the dark- 
ness settled, Claire and Elaine swiftly glided 
through the beautiful roads surrounding the 
city, past farms, orchards, and even vineyards 
and hill-sides of almost incomparable beauty. 
The mystic influence of the great beauty of 
nature, combined with the not to be surpassed 
sweet air of summer evenings before night- 
fall, fulfilled the work which Cupid had com- 
menced by shooting his dart into Elaine's 



"two bunches of violets" 51 

heart, through the vale of Claire's refinement 
of speech and unrivalled gallantry. 

Claire, himself, had never passed a more de- 
lightful summer, and had no obstacle obstruct- 
ed, his pathway would have been, he thought 
to himself, forever happy to have continuued 
under the influence of Elaine's wand of love. 



52 

Chapter 7. 

Claire had always been accustomed to living 
a life estranged to a great degree from that of 
his mother. It had always seemed to him that 
she was so engrossed in the indulgence of her 
pleasurable tastes that from early boyhood 
he had quietly understood that her pleasure 
was not his pleasure, and had gradually thrown 
the veil of beauty which he most admired over 
his many idle hours. 

So the mother now quietly understood that 
Claire was happily engaged in some way this 
summer vacation. But Helen Loe's persist- 
ence in following up an affection, which she, 
herself, had allowed to grow, with really no 
other encouragement than gallantry and flat- 
tery rendered by Claire to one, whom he well 
knew, it was his mother's one cherished wish 
should be his both by hand and fortune, caused 
Claire's mother to positively insist, by letter, 
on his returning home for two weeks before 
his curriculum for his second and last year 
commenced. 

He sat in his tastefully decorated study ad- 
joining his bedroom. He, although tall and 
well built, appeared small as he sat in a sumpt- 
uous leather tufted chair, it was so beyond 
ordinary size. His mother's letter had drop- 
ped from his hand to the floor and discon- 
tent appeared both in attitude and expression. 

He wished his most happy dream of the 
summer to continue, not to be thus rudely 



53 

thrust upon and interrupted. Had the sea 
been smooth before him, he would have res- 
cued his maid from the rocks and Hved hap- 
pily on some beautiful isle. But the dark 
high waves and yet darker sky, presenting 
themselves to his sight, intimidated him, able 
captain though he was on the sea, and sud- 
denly awakening from his dream to reality, 
he quickly arose from his comfortable posi- 
tion, and sat in a desk-chair in front of a 
writing table. 



54 "two bunches of violets" 

Chapter 8. 

On the following evening at five, Claire's 
automobile stood in front of Elaine Tres- 
more's home, and Claire pushed the bell. It 
was answered, almost hurriedly, by Elaine her- 
self, so accustomed was she to his many 
visits at this hour. 

They were very quickly and happily seated 
in the "auto," and speeding over a smooth 
road, on a very high bluff overlooking the 
lake. Nothing could be more romantic in 
its bearing. There had been a light rain 
during the early part of the afternoon, ren- 
dering the roads free from dust, the air 
fragrant with the perfume of blossoming trees 
and bushes. The fruit hung from the numer- 
ous trees, in the many orchards that they 
passed, and the washing of the rain had given 
its many colorings exquisite beauty, which 
raised Elaine's happiness to an insuperable 
height. 

Then Claire curved the course of his "auto" 
into a camp overlooking the lake. There were 
a few tents dotted here and there, occupied 
by a few people enjoying the summer in quiet 
solitude. This had been a favorite rendez- 
vous of Claire and Elaine. But never before 
had he asked her, for a moment, to descend 
the bluff to the beautiful beach. 

Elaine's proud bearing and quiet dignity, 
especially a little uncommon firm expression 
of the mouth, had always kept Claire within 



OF violets" 55 

an horizon, gallant but not familiar. Looking 
at her to-day with uncertainty, he almost 
tremulously asked that they might descend but 
for a moment, to enjoy the beauty of the scene 
to the utmost. 



56 "two bunches of violets" 

Chapter 9. 

The descent was very quickly effected by 
Elaine with Claire's assistance. The beach 
was extremely narrow. In some places they 
could reach the underbrush of the hill-side, 
and, at the same time, the waves danced mer- 
rily beneath their feet. 

A log, lying close to the side of the bluff, 
induced them to seek rest for a few moments. 
Elaine, under the influence of nature's free- 
dom, and all-reigning power at this particular 
place, removed the dark hat of wide brim, 
which had only enhanced the more the pure 
simple beauty of the face beneath and the 
figure so tastefully robed in clinging, white 
summer attire. 

"This is perfection, Miss Tresmore," began 
Claire. "The influence of the waves is always 
so powerful upon me that happiness always 
comes to me with their proximity. But, some- 
times a lonesomeness, a longing for some one 
to be at my side, someone, who looks so pure 
and beautiful that I can imagine that she has 
suddenly risen from them, a native of them, 
comes upon me, when I am under the in- 
fluence of their magic." 

"But to-day," suddenly turning and looking 
directly and scrutinizingly at her slightly 
averted face, "no lonesomeness comes to me, 
for you fulfill my dream of beauty rising from 
the waves." She suddenly started and looked 
at him, somewhat affrighted, but he very 



"two bunches of violets" 57 

quickly detected at the same time a soft blush 
spreading over her face. 

"Elaine," suddenly broke forth from Claire 
in his fervor, "I cannot restrain the bounds 
of my love. They have loosened themselves, 
and only now await your condemnation or 
approval." 

The affrightened look had now no place in 
the beautiful eyes, but allowing her love for 
him to take its place, she, with childish sim- 
plicity placed both hands in his, outstretched 
to meet them with these words, "Claire, I love 
you with all my heart." 

The bluff was not high, and some sound of 
every-day life was suddenly wafted to 
Elaine's ears, from the few frequenters of the 
little camp. It just as quickly called her, 
from her delicious sense of happiness to a 
duty to the voice of the world, and com- 
mencing, at once, to wend her way through 
the underbrush of the bluff of slight height, 
it was but the duty of Claire to silently, 
though unwillingly, follow her. 

After they had ridden for a short distance 
in the automobile, on the return home, Elaine 
turned to Claire saying, "I fear that I have 
too quickly betrayed the deep secret of my 
heart." 

"I hope that the treasurer of your secret 
is one whom you trust as well as you love," 
he responded, "for he has a boon to ask of 
his depositor, that the like bond of secret love 
exchanged to-day, may remain in her silent 



keeping, until it is ready for materialization by 
the acknowledgment of our fellow men." 



"two bunches of violets" 59 

Chapter 10. 

Elaine sat in her pretty bedroom in a low 
wicker rocking chair. In her lap lay a little 
unopened package. She had the dreamy ap- 
pearance of one at last thankful to have but 
her own thoughts for company. Finally, 
arousing herself a little from her lethargy, 
she moved her chair a little closer to her 
dressing table, on which was a reading lamp. 

She commenced unwrapping what Claire 
had pressed into her hand, as he had said 
good-bye to her, after their ride during the 
early evening. A little note first presented 
itself to her, before a most dainty little box. 

Wondering at once why there should be 
anything written, when she had almost but 
just left him, she commenced to read with 
eagerness. 

"Thou art the pearl, the flower of the sea. 
The diamonds, the waters holding thee." 

"When you read this I shall have started on 
a two weeks' requested visit to my mother. 
May these words and the emblem keep thee 
wholly mine." 

Elaine paled as she saw the words "two 
weeks." She felt that each day would be to 
her a year in time without seeing him. Then, 
suddenly, "to my mother" brought Elaine to a 
chiding of herself for selfishness, and she now 
began to open the box. 

Involuntarily she started as the beauty of 
the pearl and the delicacy of taste of setting 



60 "two bunches of violets" 

flooded her vision. The many diamonds truly 
held the flower, and Claire's delicate compli- 
ment to her beauty placed him in her heart, 
on a yet higher pedestal of adoration. 



''two bunches of violets" 61 

Chapter 11. 

When Claire reached home he found him- 
self surrounded by the usual numberless fes- 
tivities of fashion planned for him, which, to 
his dreamy, quiet nature, were excessively 
tiresome. He relieved the tenor of these, as 
much as possible, by lone sails upon the river 
and sea, which seemed to bring strength of 
endurance to him, for the almost constant en- 
croachments of Helen Loe and her worldly 
environments. 

It was now understood as the public atten- 
tions of Claire to Helen seemed to indicate, 
that she was the object of his adoration as 
heretofore, and whispers which were very 
pleasing to Claire's mother, began to circulate. 

According to hearsay, plans were effected 
by the families on each side, so that Helen 
would spend her time abroad for two years, 
during which time Claire would complete his 
curriculum, and establish himself for a year 
in a profession in a metropolis. 

Reports were spread from ear to ear, really 
emanating from the heads of the families of 
both interested parties concerned until what 
was to some time happen, and what he was 
expected to do, came at last to Claire, before 
he had ever thought of any such futurities. 

But, allowing himself to drift, knowing that 
to attempt to turn the current of affairs would 
mean to put himself a lone man upon a sand- 



62 

bar, he gallantly acceded with Helen at his 
side to the cajolery of their gay friends. 



63 
Chapter 12. 

Autumn brought the many students back 
to the college. Claire had had the field al- 
most entirely to himself during the summer. 
He had retained his room, and his friends 
having left, his attentions to Elaine had been 
unknown. 

Seeing now that his environments concern- 
ing Helen Loe were beginning to assume 
iron-clad appearances, he resolved to main- 
tain as much secrecy as possible in regard to 
his beautiful dream. 

The lovely rides in the "auto" ceased, bring- 
ing great regret to Elaine, for she had never 
before experienced such perfect happiness. 
Claire now called at stated times, far apart, 
at Elaine's home, during his second and last 
year, thus giving to Elaine's father a feeling 
of respect for him. 

But many were the different little appoint- 
ed meetings between Claire and Elaine. She 
felt uneasiness at times in keeping her secret 
from her father, but trust and love were 
synonymous with Elaine. 

A beautiful little orchard lying open to 
passers-by, adjoined one of the homes a few 
paces from Elaine's. Often, early in the 
moon-lit evenings, in the shadow of a lovely, 
bowing, bending fruit tree, Claire stood, to be 
joined for a few minutes by Elaine. 

The varying shadows and sounds caused 
by the many boughs of the trees obeying the 



64 

gentle influence of the winds, often brought 
trepidation to the lovers' hearts, for fear of 
intrusion upon the ever interesting inter- 
change of love's confidences. 



65 
Chapter 13. 

During the winter, when the beautiful 
growth of nature lay sleeping, thus being un- 
able to spread its attractive pictures before 
Elaine, caught as she was in the sometimes 
intricate spider weaving of Love's Dream, 
then the full force of life without him bore 
its weight upon her. 

Memories of this induced her, when once 
more beneath the moon-lit trees, at the end of 
Claire's curriculum, to consent to his entreat- 
ies for a secret marriage and flight to a large 
city. 

One evening she left Cordelia for a little 
walk. No word of marriage was left as a 
comfort to the father. Claire had imposed 
strict silence. Only the words, "Do not seek 
me. I am safe and my happiness is assured 
with Claire." 

The father, irate, denounced his daughter 
and to Cordelia, "Never mention her name, I 
shall forget her." 

But Cordelia's keen eyes detected during 
the following year a deep sadness settling it- 
self most forcibly upon his face, and a bend- 
ing of the shoulders, never seen before in the 
very erect form of Elaine's father. 



66 "two bunches of violets" 

Chapter 14. 

From the beautiful moon-lit, waving trees 
to the "auto," lying in wait a few paces dis- 
tant, Claire and Elaine very quickly effected 
their flight, and then rode rapidly for several 
miles to a small town distant, where Claire 
had informed Elaine that a young friend, a 
minister, would tie their nuptial knot in the 
parlor of his small home. 

Claire had found enough arguments and 
proof conclusive to convince Elaine that just 
a little financial pathway between his mother 
and himself needed a little professional clear- 
ance, and then she would be his acknowledged 
bride by his family and friends, and speedily 
forgiven for a short-lived secrecy in real mar- 
riage by her devoted father. 

After leaving the little home in the little 
town, Elaine, believing that she was held in 
holy wedlock by Claire, and that his reasons 
for secrecy were all-wise and sufficient, gave 
herself up to the realization of a perfect hap- 
piness, which she had so long coveted, of 
being Claire's own. 

To a metropolis, a thousand miles distant, 
they traveled, and an apartment in a suburb 
not very well known, being quickly secured 
by Claire, this became a place of unbounded 
happiness for a year for Claire and Elaine. 

He had, in the city, a professional office, at 
which he spent only enough time to give his 
mother a written account of his industry. 



"two bunches of violets" 67 

His place of residence in the suburb was 
an unknown quantity to all who knew him in 
the city. 



68 "two bunches of violets" 

Chapter 15. 

Nearly two years had passed since Helen 
had set sail for foreign ports and Claire's 
mother had gone with her. Letters now be- 
gan to come to Claire, that they might soon 
be expected home. But, owing to the de- 
lightfulness of their visit, if Claire would not 
mind waiting for Helen for his own a little 
longer, they might defer their return for a 
few months. 

Claire read his yet forwarded freedom with 
delight. But, as he looked in the futurity of 
time and saw that it would be about Christ- 
mas-time that he would be expected to claim 
a bride not of his own choosing, for his mother 
had written that the trousseau was chosen and 
all would be ready for culmination at that 
beautiful time of the year, Claire looked at a 
sea with troublous dark waters, and a ter- 
rific storm gathered in the heavily clouded 
sky, with a risk of its suddenly tearing away 
from him his beautiful dream of a maid of 
the sea, and compelling him to save but him- 
self for all of this earthly futurity. 



''two bunches of violets" 69 

Chapter 16. 

"Elaine," said Claire, on the morning of the 
second day before Christmas, "I have very 
suddenly been called home." She was hold- 
ing a very wee little one in her arms and she 
very suddenly looked at him, affrighted, but 
still with eyes held in trust. 

"You mean, I am certain, that you will 
now," looking down at her little cherished 
bundle, held yet more closely in her arms, 
"take us with you." 

Claire turned suddenly, almost cruelly to- 
wards her, saying, "I mean nothing of the 
kind. I shall go alone. I have only a few 
minutes to talk." 

With loving entreaties, Elaine clung to him 
until Claire felt himself beginning to weaken, 
and so summoned anger to his side. This 
caused Elaine to use her last resource. 

With the hauteur that he had seen, at the 
time of his first vision of her she drew her- 
self away from him, saying, "I, your wife, 
demand that you either remain with me, un- 
protected in a strange place and without a 
friend, or take me." 

In a moment of cruel anger, he lost all con- 
trol of himself and said, "Your claim can not 
be substantiated. A friend of mine, having 
no right to read the marriage service, read 
ours." 

Although in such high anger he fully caught 
the sublime determination imprinted in the 



70 "two bunches of violets" 

pallor of her face, which the severe shock of 
his words had caused, and he saw his beau- 
tiful pure "maid of the sea" caught up into 
a most beautiful light and vanishing from 
him forever. 



71 

Chapter 17. 

"It is dark and I am far from home, lead 
Thou me on," the words rang in Elaine's ears, 
with the reproduction of those sweet musical 
tones heard by her in the dim past distance of 
time, when she was a very little child, listen- 
ing to a dear mother singing a favorite hymn. 

The spiritual thought inspired helped Elaine 
to firmly close the door of what would be 
disgrace and sin, and start out into the world, 
without a name, to seek to return to her 
father, to ask forgiveness for allowing secrecy 
to enter into their paternal and filial love, for 
many years having been tied with tighter and 
stronger cords, on account of that loss, during 
early childhood, of a dearly loved wife and 
mother. 

She had summoned to her aid all plain, 
dark clothing in her possession, a cape that 
she could draw about the cherished little one, 
held with loving tenderness under its protec- 
tion, and a dark heavy veil that would keep 
her pale face from the searching looks of the 
crowds at the railroad stations. 

Very quickly Elaine was conducted by the 
sub-transit into the metropolis, and she en- 
tered the first jewelry store presenting itself 
to her view. 

It was only a moment, and then the beau- 
tiful ring, given to her by Claire, floated on 
the waters of past sad memories. 



72 "two bunches of violets'* 

Chapter 18. 

With timidity, yet with great bravery and 
determination of purpose, Elaine left the 
store, and started to find her way to the rail- 
road station. She hoped that now she had 
sufficient to carry her safe once more into the 
simple home of her father. She knew that 
the price she had accepted for the ring was 
not at all its value, but knowing that holding 
anything of such beauty and wishing to dis- 
pose of it beneath her sad garb placed her in 
a position both doubtful and suspicious, she 
had accepted what was off^ered without a word 
of dissent. 

Many times had she traversed these streets 
with Claire during their supposed honey-moon. 
The night was now approaching and the store 
windows were most entrancing to the passers- 
by, with their many and various colored lights. 

These Elaine really did not even see. Know- 
ing her danger in the surrounding wickedness 
of the approaching night which always lurks 
in the crowded thoroughfares of any great 
metropolis, her eyes were simply bent on 
swiftly gliding by and evading anyone of bold 
or trespassing appearance. 

She was very familiar with the way leading 
to the station. Eagerly and quickly pressing 
forward, she was very suddenly stopped by a 
condensed throng on a street corner. 

This, combined with the whistles and other 
lively sounds of the newly-invented toys for 



*'two bunches of violets" 73 

this Christmas-tide street sale, suddenly made 
Elaine cognizant of the life and joy of the 
Christmas shoppers. 



74 "two bunches of violets 

Chapter 19. 

The loud, rumbling sounds, emanating from 
the elevated trains, constantly running over- 
head, produced in their turn their deafening 
impressions. Santa Claus, in his imitation 
garb, stood in front of the immense, elegantly 
decorated windows of the department store on 
this corner, and the street venders held their 
holly wreaths high in the air, with their cry 
for attention from the passers-by. 

The little news-boys, none too warmly clad, 
held their own in the crowd with their sweep- 
ing energy and loud cries of the evening paper. 

Elaine saw the people constantly surging 
from the iron staircase descending to the 
street corners from the trains above, adding 
their weight to the crowd, for the police to 
handle to safety across the streets. 

The people stood with the deepest interest 
and pleasure before the store windows, many 
holding little folks upon their shoulders to 
view the beautifully dressed dolls and auto- 
matic wax-figures. 

Charity presented itself also to her eyes, in 
the shape of maimed and crushed figures, and 
some plain and pretty faces of women, under 
the protection of the plain garb and extended 
poke-bonnets, belonging to city charitable or- 
ganizations. 

The many heavy wagons, elegant carriages, 
and automobiles were at last stopped in their 



*'two bunches of violets" 75 

movements, and the crowd was ordered to 
"move on," or "hurry up." 

So for several blocks Elaine moved through 
the fashionable shopping thoroughfare of the 
city, moved with an especially defined sense of 
the great difference in her present position, 
and that of the elegantly dressed ladies in the 
automobiles, where she felt in all justice 
should be her rightful place. 



76 "two bunches of violets" 

Chapter 20. 

On Christmas eve, beneath a beautiful can- 
opy of holly stood Claire Fairfax in the li- 
brary of the home of Helen Loe. She de- 
scended the stair-case, the balustrade of which 
was entwined with ropes of holly. It pre- 
dominated everywhere in graceful arrange- 
ment and profusion throughout the many 
beautiful tapestried rooms of this elegant 
home. 

The bride's dress was an arrangement of 
marvelous beauty and of the latest mode, and 
beneath the point veil, Helen raised eyes ra- 
diant with happiness, as Claire moved slightly, 
gracefully to meet her. At that moment she 
was the object of the utmost envy to many of 
the young ladies most beautifully decollete 
gowned, in their eagerness to see all, slightly 
pressing against the white satin ribbons form- 
ing the aisle for the passing of the bride with 
her attendants. 

Very raputrously she greeted the kiss of 
her husband after the marriage had been 
solemnized, as he and she turned to greet the 
many congratulations of their kindred and 
friends. 

"Man and wife," the world acknowledged 
them. There was no breath of dissent, and 
Helen, after experiencing the pleasure of in- 
dulging in the exquisite beauty of bridal, table 
decorations and catering, was led away chival- 
rously by Claire, only to be seen again by the 



"two bunches of violets" 77 

fashionably and beautifully gowned throng 
of friends pressing upon her, as she, in a 
superb traveling gown with Claire support- 
ing her, managed to glide swiftly down the 
beautiful stair-case, and through the hall, to 
the already opened door-way, where she 
looked like a fleeting vision of perfect happi- 
ness, with the flakes of a fast-falling snow- 
storm portending their future chilling effect. 



78 "two bunches of violets" 

Chapter 21. 

On this Christmas morn, Chanticleer had 
succeeded in leaving his foot-prints on nature. 
This was one of those rare mornings of winter 
on which one awakens to find that a silvery 
veil is covering each spreading bough of the 
trees and the innumerable twigs. 

Silver sheen covered all of nature's foliage. 
Beneath a leaden sky, and with the earth cov- 
ered with a fresh heavy fall of snow, so early 
in the morning scarcely disturbed by even a 
foot-print, stood the crystal trees and shrubs. 

The icicles hung beautifully arranged in 
varying shapes and sizes from the edge of the 
roof of Elaine's piazza, and were surmounted 
by a crown of snow several feet high, cover- 
ing the top of the roof of the piazza. 

Elaine's father had been sitting in a large 
reclining chair, before a bright hearth, since 
the early morning hours. Disturbed in mind, 
he had been unable to sleep, for the returning 
Christmas-tide forced upon him thoughts of 
the daughter whom he had striven to forget. 

He could see hanging in front of the fire- 
place the stocking of the beautiful little girl 
of long ago. It was packed to the utmost, 
overflowing, even tied with string at the top, 
to prevent its thrusting its contents upon the 
public gaze. Then, she, Elaine, suddenly ap- 
pearing at the opposite door-way, in her little 
white night-robe and bare feet, unable to wait 
longer for Christmas joy ; he feels her now 



"two bunches of violets" 79 

within his warm clasp, and, sitting on his 
knees, she, with glad cries of surprise, tumbles 
every article from the stocking into their laps, 
and the sides and corners of the old large 
chair. 

The happy picture and the bright warmth 
of the fire at last have closed his eyes, and he 
sits, reclining, asleep ; when suddenly a sharp 
cry of "Cordelia" rents the air. 



80 "two bunches of violets' 

Chapter 22. 

In an instant from a little adjoining room 
the faithful woman is at his side, thinking in 
her great anxiety that Death must be near at 
hand. 

But, instead, a terrible look of vengeance 
shot from the eyes of the father, standing in 
front of the chair, his body shaking violently 
with uncontrollable agitation. 

"I have seen her in my dream," came from 
his lips in terrible distinctness, so that Cor- 
delia at once knew whom he meant, "in ter- 
rible distress," he continued, "innocent de- 
serted. Never shall I rest until I wreak my 
venegance on the man who has ruined her life 
and mine. His life shall be my only forfeit." 

Cordelia had stood transfixed, as it were, for 
a moment, when suddenly, a shadow cast from 
the front window seemed to intercept, for a 
moment, her gaze fixed upon him in his fury. 

She raised her arm, as if to try to silence 
him, and then, "Pray, try to be quiet, sir, if 
only for a moment. Through the window, in 
al the heavy snow to her knees, I can see a 
woman in dark clothes. Yes," putting her 
hand above her eyes, as if wishing to be cer- 
tain, "I am sure that bundle she is carrying 
is a child. On such a morn as this she must 
be in terrible distress to come to a stranger's 
home. Let me go," just for a moment, ad- 
vancing to the door. "Let me see." 

She swung the door suddenly, and the wo- 



''two bunches of violets" 81 

man fell exhausted, fainting, in Cordelia's 
arms. "Poor creature," came from Cor- 
delia's lips, "wading through several feet of 
snow on the sidewalks of this town, at this 
early time in the morning, with this little one 
in her arms, has outdone her." 

Seeing extremity like his own, Elaine's 
father forgot himself for a moment to give 
aid. "Go, Cordelia," authoritatively came 
from him. "Get restoratives. I will hft her 
into the chair by the fire, to give her babe and 
her warmth." 

He gently lifted her from Cordelia's arms, 
and placed her babe and her in the reclining 
chair before the hearth. 



82 . "two bunches of violets" 
Chapter 23. 

Cordelia was detained for a few moments 
searching for and collecting together what she 
thought would be necessary to help her to 
throw off from the mother and child the bad 
effects which exposure in the early morning 
winter had produced. 

Elaine's father began to pace the room and, 
just as his mood had been so suddenly in- 
terrupted by the appeararuce of the stranger, 
so now it seemed to just as quickly return. 
He forgot everything except his hatred and 
thirst for vengeance, and he began mumbling 
to himself ; then suddenly broke forth from 
him in most pitiful sobs, "I have wronged 
you, Elaine." 

He did not notice, for his head was bowed 
in his hands, and he had knelt before the 
fire-side in his distress; but the woman in 
the chair began to move, the hands weakly 
pushed up the heavy veil, which had alto- 
gether hidden her face, and raising herself a 
little aflfrightedly, ''What did I hear? Where 
am I ?" 

Then in a second it came upon her, one 
glance at the old fireplace, and then the bowed, 
kneeling figure of the father before it. 

Forgetting that she had in her intense weak- 
ness been almost unable to raise her veil, in 
her excitement she lifted the babe lying in 
her lap, placed it gently in the chair, and 



"two bunches of violets" 83 

stepped quickly, almost noiselessly to her 
father's side. 

But nature was not to be resisted so easily 
and quickly waved her powerful scepter once 
more, and she fell unconscious before the 
father kneeling at the fireside in dire distress. 

Cordelia entered just at that moment, her 
arms filled with comforts and restoratives, 
and heard the joyful, yet alarmed cry of the 
father, "Elaine! It is my little Elaine! She 
has at last come back to me." 



84 ''two bunches of violets" 

Chapter 24. 

Cordelia, in her surprise, nearly dropped all 
that she held in her hands, but after one look 
at the pallor of Elaine's face, she was herself 
at once, working with all her common sense, 
ability and material at hand to bring back 
signs of Hfe. 

But it seemed to be of no avail, and the 
poor woman finally broke down, weeping, 
saying tremulously, "I am afraid she is gone, 
sir." 

The father had had no fears that she would 
not regain consciousness, and had been walk- 
ing back and forth in the room thinking and 
wondering what had been the life story of his, 
darling, while she had been away from him. 

Suddenly, recalled now to himself, the same 
fear of Elaine's not recovering now possessed 
him, and he dispatched Cordelia hastily for 
medical assistance. Bending now over Elaine 
he worked with all his knowledge and power 
to restore her to life, but, at last, in despair, 
as Cordelia had been, he arose, possessed once 
more with the thirst for vengeance, and be- 
gan to pace the room to and fro with quick 
strides, calling out aloud to be given power to 
bring justice upon the man who had done this 
deed to his beloved Elaine. With terrible 
distinctness and power came forth from him, 
"I will kill him." 

The terrific force of feeling, and the loud 
tone following the restorative work of Cor- 



"two bu ches of violets" 85 

delia, and himself, caused Elaine to be sud- 
denly restored to consciousness, and with the 
opening of her eyes, had also heard the words. 

"Father, stay ! What would you do," came 
weakly from her. In an instant he knelt at 
her side, for Cordelia had long before lifted 
Elaine upon a couch in front of the fire-place. 

On seeing her regain consciousness, beside 
himself with joy, laughing, crying at the same 
time, he gently took her hands, saying, 

"Never mind, Elaine, just tell me, if you 
can, in a few words, about your life, since 
you have been away from me. 



86 "two bunches of violets" 

Chapter 25. 

When Cordelia opened the door, hurriedly 
followed by the elderly, kind looking physi- 
cian, they found Elaine with her arms about 
her father's neck, unravelling to him the story 
of her life with Claire. 

"Sh," came from the physician to Cordelia, 
as he quietly put his hand upon his lips, and 
placed a deterring hand upon her arm, as she 
was beginning to advance to the fire-place. 

Then the physician's keen ears heard the 
father say, quietly, firmly to Elaine. "The 
man who did this wicked deed shall give you 
your honor by true marriage, or, I swear, he 
shall meet death by my hand." 

"Father," as excitedly as could come from 
one, in as weak a condition as Elaine's, "I 
could never trust him, love him again." Then 
pressing him closer to her, holding him tighter, 
she began to whisper, 'T fear that I have not 
long to live. Father." "Do not let me feel 
that this sin, which has been committed with- 
out intent on my part, shall bring my father 
to sin against Him, who says, 'Vengeance is 
mine.' " 

"Elaine," the father wept, "You ask more 
than flesh can do." 

"No, no Father," came still more weakly 
from Elaine. "Dear Father, promise me. I 
feel that my precious moments with you in 
this world are numbered, and, listen ! Do 
you not hear those beautiful Christmas chimes 



"two bunches of violets'* 87 

from the tower nearby? So many happy 
Christmas days I have loved to hear them toll 
their Teace on Earth!' But, Father, never 
have the tones been so sweet as they will be 
to-day, if they bring forth to me by their ap- 
peal, your promise." 

But still the father remained silent with 
bent head. "Do you remember," continued 
Elaine, while the chimes made the village air 
resound with their beautiful anthem, Teace 
on Earth?' Do you remember those lines 
from 'Snow Bound' which we used to read so 
many times, sitting by this fire-place together, 
when you would grow sad and lonesome with- 
out dear mother?" 

"How strange it seems, with so much gone 

Of life and love, to still live on! 

Ah, brother ! only I and thou 

Are left of all that circle now, 

The dear home faces whereupon 

That fitful firelight paled and shown. 

Henceforward, listen, as we will. 

The voices of that hearth are still. 

Look where we may, the wide earth o'er, 

Those lighted faces smile no more. 

We tread the paths their feet have worn. 

We sit beneath their orchard trees, 

We hear, like them the hum of bees 

And rustle of the bladed corn ; 

We turn the pages that they read. 

Their written words we linger o'er, 

But in the sun they cast no shade. 



88 ''two bunches of violets" 

No voice is heard, no sign is made, 

No step is on the conscious floor! 

Yet Love will dream and Faith v^^ill trust 

(Since He who knows our need is just) 

That somehow, somewhere meet we must. 

Alas for him who never sees 

And stars shine through his cypress trees 1 

Who hopeless, lays his dead away, 

Nor looks to see the breaking day 

Across the mournful marbles play : 

Who hath not learned, in hours of faith 

The truth to flesh and sense unknown, 

That Life is ever lord of Death, 

And Love can never lose its own." 

— Whittier. 



"two bunches of violets" 89 

Chapter 26. 

Lower and weaker had grown the tones of 
Elaine as she repeated the last few lines. They 
were slowly said, however, and so distinct that 
the father in the intensity of his feeling did 
not notice their weakness. 

The physician's ear, well trained, detected 
both the gradually increased weakness of the 
tones, and the very anxious look upon Elaine's 
face betokening her own knowledge of her 
condition, as she had not yet obtained her 
father's promise. 

Quietly advancing, and bidding by a motion 
of his arm that Cordelia go to the little one, 
who had been disregarded in Elaine's great 
need, he gently took Elaine's arm from her 
father's shoulder, feeling her pulse, and said, 
"Man, whatever you have to say must be said 
quickly." 

Then Elaine, with the most beautiful smile 
that the physician, in his almost life-long ex- 
perience, had ever seen upon human counten- 
ance at the entrance of the gates-ajar, heard 
her father huskily mutter, "Somehow, some- 
where, meet we must. In hours of faith, the 
truth to flesh and sense unknown." 

And then more huskily, "I promise, Elaine." 

"Peace on Earth," was still resounding far 
and wide through Elaine's native village, as 
the father clung to her lifeless form, her beau- 
tiful golden hair unbound, loosely surrounding 



90 "two bunches of violets" 

her like waves of the sea, gilt rimmed by the 
sunshine. 

And the physician and Cordelia both looked 
sadly at the beautiful little one, who had been 
lifeless for several hours. "Only a few weeks 
old," he was quietly saying to her. "Too 
much exposure to frost," pointing to the win- 
dows, heavily coated, "and too much exertion 
through heavy drifts of snow," looking at 
them, banked in some places nearly to the 
height of the windows, and with a last linger- 
ing glance at the shadow of Elaine. 



"two bunches of violets" 91 

Sequel. 
Chapter 27. 

A year and a half have sHpped by since 
Helen Loe was declared Mrs. Fairfax. On 
this afternoon, which is a very warm, plea- 
sant one, she, dressed very elaborately for a 
lawn fete, enters their beautiful drawing- 
room, sumptuously furnished in antique style 
in mahogany and the latest shade of blue. 

Her husband is carelessly reposing on a 
softly cushioned sofa. On seeing her, he rises, 
and then noticing the innumerable ruffles and 
feathers, he remarks jocosely, "Certainly, 
Helen, I'artiste has done all in her power for 
you." 

"I am so j)leased that you like it," came 
from Helen quickly, disappointedly. She 
would have liked a compliment as elaborate as 
her attire. Ever since their marriage there 
was always a ring to his pleasantries that 
seemed to tell her she did not quite reach his 
ideal. 

Claire sat down, leaning slightly and grace- 
fully against one of the cushions, and began to 
lapse into indifference. Another habit of his 
during this year and a half, which had gradu- 
ally cooled Helen's ardent love, and she en- 
deavored, as much as possible to satiate her 
unsatisfied heart with compliments of gentle- 
men of Claire's and her acquaintance, and the 
society and worldly life and animation of their 
companionship. 



92 ''two bunches of violets" 

At last Helen broke the silence finally un- 
endurable to her, but which Claire had not 
even noticed was silence, for he had uncon- 
sciously lapsed into dreaming of that sweet 
simplicity of attire, of the one of his dream 
of long ago, it now seemed to him, and he very 
visibly started, as if one awakened, when 
Helen remarked, "I am awaiting Mr. La- 
bouche to accompany me to the fete, as you 
said some time ago on my mentioning it, that 
you would not care to go, but perhaps one of 
our friends might be better pleased with this 
style of amusement." 

"Just so, Helen," answered Claire indiffer- 
ently. "But, by the way, was not the name 
always Labrouche, before the family took that 
European tour?" 

Then, not giving her time to answer, he ad- 
vanced quickly to the window from which 
there was a beautiful view of the river, enter- 
ing with its wide mouth into the sea, "I'm off 
for a sail for a few days. I feel just in the 
mood of mingling my reveries and dreams 
with the winds and the waters," and before 
she was scarcely aware of it, he had very sud- 
denly disappeared from her sight by stepping 
out of the low window onto the porch, and 
descending the steps, which led from the high 
bluff to the river beneath, where his steam 
launch was waiting. 

Helen quickly stepped to the Romeo and 
Juliet balcony, for really so it seemed that it 
should be. But Love was not in the precinct 



"two bunches of violets" 93 

of these romantic surroundings, and Helen 
only saw Claire's attending sailor as the little 
launch steamed away. For Claire had en- 
tered the cabin, without a look or thought for 
the fair lady on the balcony. 



94 "two bunches of violets" 

Chapter 28. 

Throwing himself quickly into one of the 
berths of the very small cabin Claire said to 
his craftsman, '']eflry, do not disturb me 
to-night. I am weary, and wish to sleep, with 
my door open. I wish to enjoy the lovely 
soft salt air breeze of the sea blowing upon 
me. Mind, on no account do you disturb me." 

Jeffrey felt the emphasis of his master's re- 
mark, and bore it in mind during the night. 
Claire had perfect confidence in his ability, as 
manager of the small launch, for many cruises 
had they taken on the sea together. "Aye, 
aye, sir," fell from Jeffrey's lips, and then he 
gave himself up to his duties and silence. 

Was Claire happy? Somehow the soft 
breezes did not soothe him as usual. He tossed 
from side to side in his berth. This last pic- 
ture of Helen indelibly impressed upon his 
mind, seemed to bring before his eyes, one 
after another, so many beautiful pictures of 
the one of his dream, of her, whose simplicity 
had always charmed him. "Why," he kept 
saying to himself in his selfishness, "had she 
not been content to stay where he had left her, 
allowing him to come and go when he pleased ? 
But now he was alone, lost without her, not 
happy, no. 

"She, yes, he had heard she had left the 
little apartment. He supposed she had gone 
to her father, back to that simple small town 



"two bunches of violets" 95 

life. Why had she not been content to stay, 
live for him alone, not for the world ?" 

He never thought of Heaven. 

Then a little jealous feeling possessed him, 
as he remembered his first vision of Elaine. 
**Yes," he supposed, **now, in time, she would 
marry that fellow who had stood in the atti- 
tude of protesting his love." And then his 
self conceit said to him in its turn : "How 
could she have deserted a fellow like himself, 
who could, as he had told her, in time have 
lavished so much expense upon her, for that 
simple fellow? Why could he not have been 
indulged in his dream?" 

Then, at last, nature folded Claire in her 
wings of power, and he lay asleep and the 
darkness of the night wrapped itself all about 
the little launch. 



96 "two bunches of violets" 

Chapter 29. 

A very large excursion steamer was wend- 
ing its way through the sea. A fog had very 
suddenly and unexpectedly arisen above the 
waters, and the crew on the steamer were ex- 
ercising all vigilance possible, with the search- 
light and fog horns. 

Jefifry had fallen asleep; no, really he was 
only nodding a little when he afterwards 
strove to bring all to recollection, and when 
he had commenced, the night was beautifully 
clear. He was sitting up, he could remember, 
near to the machinery. Then, awakening, a 
slight haziness seemed to present itself to 
his eyes, as he went on deck, and he was at 
once on the alert. 

He seemed to see a little light not very far 
distant, and, fearing a steamer might be near, 
he was about to call Mr. Fairfax, and then 
the words, "on no account, do you disturb 
me," came to him and he was just about to 
laugh at himself for his lack of confidence in 
his own ability; when, the haziness developed 
into dense fog, the light could not be seen; 
and, then, it seemed, but a moment — and, one 
end of the launch, the cabin end, where Claire 
was, was suddenly submerged. 

The cry, "Ship Ahoy," was suddenly heard 
by Jeffry, and he was lifted, from his end of 
the launch uplifted in the water, into a little 
boat ; then, into a large excursion steamer. 
As he looked, crying to all on board to save 



TWO BUNCHES OF VIOLETS " 97 

his Master Fairfax, he and all heard nothing, 
saw nothing, only the top end of the little 
launch's highest rigging. 

With awe, the aroused sleepers, of the large 
excursion steamer, stood on deck. Nay, many 
knelt in prayer for the saving of the life of 
the master in the dark waters. 

But the life savers said, "It is all over. We 
can do no more. Any other life on board has 
been sucked by the water under the steamer." 



98 "two bunches of violets" 

Chapter 30. 

Then all hope of saving this man's "Master 
Fairfax," was given up, and after all due ex- 
citement had subsided, the steamer plied on- 
ward for many hours, until she reached a very- 
large city, depositing there her many passen- 
gers, and diffusing the intelligence of the very 
sad and much to be deplored, but unavoidable 
accident. 

Such a heavy fog, coming so suddenly upon 
the sea, had not been known for years. But 
for the future, fog horns would be blown more 
often, and more searchlights would be used, 
and these promises comforted to some extent 
the hearts of many so disturbed by hearing of 
the heart-rending catastrophe. 

After a few days, and there had been time 
for inqury into the private character of the 
man, whose life had been ended in this world 
without time for one thought for the next, the 
rumors were circulated of a life, which had 
always been given up to self-indulgence and 
pleasure — never any necessity for work — one 
might say, a useless life, never any thought of 
doing good to that distressed half of the world 
of which he had never formed a part. 

After his marriage a large fortune had been 
settled upon him by his mother, and his wife 
was a very wealthy lady. 

He had spent most of his life in the pleas- 
ures of the sea. But charitable acts had been 
non est, and this rumor was very light, per- 



"two bunches of violets" 99 

haps without any foundation, but hearsay 
spoke of some entanglement not altogether 
creditable with a beautiful maiden, whom he 
did not marry, as she did not belong to his 
sphere. 



100 A GOLDEN DREAM 

A GOLDEN DREAM. 

Give to me an isle for a golden dream, 
An isle which may never far away seem; 
An isle which oceans never sweep away, 
An isle which lives until the break of day. 

For such I would be borne on the dark night 
In a child's soul with its winged birds of flight, 
Living yet once again in its night's play 
A dream of a forest of yesterday. 

Gently it swoops beneath the eaves of trees, 
Dreamily bears itself midst rustling leaves ; 
Wanders in the old time forest path, 
Far from any rude word of the world's wrath. 

In joy it lives in a perfect life 
Far from an atmosphere of any strife ; 
With joy the weird cries of the forest ring 
Which to a child's soul its loved music bring. 

It now is swept by the currents of sounds 
But with an echoing sound it rebounds, 
Surely I may be a strong, lovely tree 
And not an island buried in the sea. 

For I wish to live the same life as thee 
That some day of strongest oak I may be. 
Humbly fulfilling ev'ry earthly task, 
Sowing seed the world's Creator would ask. 



A GARDEN FOR JUNE 101 

Beautiful oak leaves now breathe within me, 
Inspiring strength as you fall in your glee! 
That at the autumnal age of my life 
I may imbibe your blood wine for the strife. 

When the winter crowns me with snow 
Let there be then such joy as you must know ; 
In might let me stand surveying the strands 
Of acorns of His love in children's hands. 

A GARDEN FOR JUNE. 

Is there anyone who knows 

Exactly the day 
That this flower or that 

Will put forth its rose? 

It is better to gather 
To June's flowery month, 
Brother and sister 
That live in the song 
Of other month's weather. 

O'er the world's heather 
The wind blows all the year; 
There is not a petal 
That some Season's windmill 
Will not render sere. 

Kind Fortune's Windmill 

This year your arrow point, 

That I may to nature 

In unison dedicate 

The year's beauty joint. 



102 A ROSE BOWER 

A ROSE BOWER. 

A queen of a Rose Bower sang 
Her sweetest melodies which rang 
With echoes loud and clear and sweet 
From a paved court-yard to a street. 

'Neath curtain of green leaf and thorn 
The sounds rang forth one early morn; 
Perchance some stranger's ear to meet 
Who would admiringly them greet. 

Then from the turrets and towers low 
Echoes of a rose chorus grow; 
And with beat of cymbals and drums 
A warrior on a steed comes. 

With stature which is queer and gaunt, 
Arched eyebrows and pointed beard haunt 
The dreams of all who see his face 
And form an old-time armor-case. 

'Neath the steel is a heart of Love, 
Searching for the carrier-dove 
Hiding near a low portico 
Wafting Cupid's letters below. 

With an answering string and bow 
Of Love's accents so sweet and low 
The air with entreaties is rent 
To fly from her rose-curtain tent. 



A ROSE BOWER 103 

The Knight has a devoted friend 
Who cannot encouragement lend; 
Who says that thorns of a rose lead 
Him to believe she is a friend. 

With the soft wings of Cupid's dove 
The Rose Queen comes out from above; 
Nods of approval thus are lent 
To a suitor of true intent. 

But a beautiful deer is wont 
To bring more riders to the front 
Than can in time their booty gain ; 
Some clashing steed meets Defeat's pain. 

Other lovers with their drawn swords, 
Wings of Cupid had blown towards 
Rose Bower with intent to cull 
Rose Queen with music's chanting lull. 

Now as the deer with quickened ear 
Lends to the chase of horseman near, 
With flapping wings the dove thus waives 
Her warrior to Bandit caves. 

Wrest from the grasp of those stone walls 
The beauty the Wild Rose enthralls ; 
That stolen necklace bring to me 
From that time forth your own I'll be. 

Coquettishly from the town's wall 
She glances at her courtier tall, 
Jealously he leaves his queen there 
While her courtiers Love's glances dare. 



104 A ROSE BOWER 

The knight with his true friend departs 
To win his queen's heart's prize he starts ; 
Truest purity of Wild Rose 
Shall be his own adorned one's pose. 

The Steeds of Love and Friendship bend 
Their footsteps in misty dawn's trend, 
In windmills of roseate hope 
In cynic's sails of creaking rope. 

Faith and Doubt traverse mountain path, 
Windmills turn into Dark Night's wrath, 
Faith is bound by a bandit's rope, 
While Doubt, asleep, breathes of no hope. 

Faith bursts into such prayerful song 
To Bandit to whom caves belong, 
That crumbling wall of stone heart melts ; 
Love from Bandit the Wild Rose wrests. 

Then waking his quaking friend Doubt 
To dream of miracle worked out; 
With stolen necklace in his hand 
Love blesses all the Bandit's band. 

With throat of song not yet defied 
By the world's weary even-tide, 
The Rose Queen in her own domain. 
Does now her courtiers entertain. 

The music of the dancing leaves 
Then to the Rose Queen's chorus cleaves, 
And ere she sups the blight of night 
Love's raptures sings to a brave knight. 



A ROSE BOWER 105 

Preceded by his old friend Doubt 
Who was in beHef grown quite stout, 
True Love with dignity now comes 
As bridegrooms do who wed fair ones. 

When the Rose Queen will not believe 
Bandit would let the Wild Rose leave, 
To her with Cupid's wings 'tis blown, 
Love's necklace to make her his own. 

Proofs of True Love then do her force, 
With laugh and kiss and no remorse, 
A witness to her falsity; 
A lawful wife she cannot be. 

Wild Rose's necklace purity 

To own is for all such as he ; 

The town's winds of Rose Bower's tide 

The knight now mockingly deride. 

With his drawn sword he slowly rides 
From white feathers at courtier's sides, 
And with Friendship he does abide, 
Defense of Life's receding tide. 

He soon reaches the Desert Isle 
Of Life to him as not worth while 
And 'neath its blighted heavy yoke 
Stands midst shadows of stoutest oak. 

In Air Castle's Isle his heart dreams 
Broken by True Love's sword it seems, 
With Rose Queen's name last from his Lips 
Knight's True Love Sword falls to Friendship. 



106 BLUE BELL AND ANEMONE 

BLUE BELL AND ANEMONE. 

Come, let us jingle in the dell 

Midst forests which the woodmen fell ; 

Midst pines and ferns uphold our heads 

On stems that are of fine grass threads; 

Midst scented air our music rear 

O'er sloping hill-sides far and near. 

Let us waft onward from the lea 
Song of the flower of the sea, 
That to our humble message sent 
*Twill be an accompaniment. 
"Must we forever lowly be," 
Chant Blue Bell and Anemone? 

The sea-air from the ocean strand 
Mingles with that by pine boughs fanned 
Perfumes the air of many climes 
With ringing anthems and with chimes ; 
'Till moon-lit strings of Cupid's bow 
Are stretched by chords both high and low. 

'Tis then he throws his poisoned dart 
And cuts in twain a lover's heart. 
" 'Tis Nature's destiny," says he, 
"Your Hfe will ever lowly be." 
"But I, a Bleeding Heart shall weep 
For you on Earth and in the Deep." 



"pansy quartet" 107 

"PANSY QUARTET." 

A bunch of pansies 

Was handed to me 
It was in dark night 

And I could not see. 

I held them in hand 

For some little time 
Not dreaming in day 

They would be rhyme. 

Dropping them in water 

In parlor vases 
I thought the morning 

Would bring fresh faces. 

But I was busy 

For at least two days 
Forgot the pansies 

Even for a gaze. 

I then found singing 

A little quartet, 
"We are fresh you see 

Forgotten to wet." 

I felt the reproach 

Of those that were left 
Happy yet in strength 

Not in life bereft. 



108 ''pansy quartet" 

"In book I'll press you 
I'll not forget you," 

I said to the few, 
For I'd found my cue. 

And when I next looked 
In that old scrap book 

I began to rhyme 
From that very time. 

"You dear little band 
Give to me your hand 

Your song was so sweet 
Now again we meet." 

"Lavender and gold 
Color of my mould. 

Dark purple and white 
Shades I think quite right. 

Leader sang to me 
As for distant tree 

Then I looked at next 
Listened for a text. 

"My color is gold 

Was always my mould 

God gave this to me 
'Twas his will to be." 

"Gold illuminates 
Purple of my mates 

I have its fringes 

Sang old time breezes." 



"red tulips" 109 

"Quite light is my heart 

Purple other part 
Fourth elf sang to me 

Then in a near tree." 

I searched earth and sky 

For I wished to try 
To find hiding elves 

That sang of themselves. 

Leader stealthily 

Sings these words to me 

"Sing no more we can 
We have lost 'Gold Fan !' " 

"RED TULIPS." 

The day was dull and dark and cold, 
*Twas of Spring-time's earliest mold. 
No joyous song of bird was heard ; 
No verdant bough had tree unfurled ; 
The sky was of dark gloomy grey 
That seemed to Nature's life to say, 
"There's not a Light that could pierce through 
Such heavy laden cloudy hue." 

World's Nature seemed without a hope, 

Though dismantled of Winter's rope 

Of snow and ice and winds that freeze 

The tufted grass beneath the trees — 

Without a hope of a new life 

Though freed from Winter's bondage strife. 

Hou could rejuvenation be 

For Winter's season frozen tree? 



110 "red tulips" 

What is so cold and stark and dead 
Must be forged with that molten lead 
That in the sky above's so drear ; 
Reviving hand could not be near 
From which it could regain its life 
After such a War's battle strife. 
So seemed the parting day to say 
To Nature's soul life held at bay. 

The day was done! 'Twas setting sun! 
The tree's mill-race of Life was run ! 
But hound-like midst that dull lead grey 
Sprang rays like gleaming teeth that lay 
Their tightened hold on Heaven's tent 
And new life for the tree was rent. 
Midst purple, red and gilt edged cloud 
Shone Heaven's blue from vapor shroud. 

'Twas portent of Spring-time's new life 
To dawn after a night's dark strife, 
And through Heaven's own golden ray 
A tree's death mantle slips away. 
Nature's true and soul-born flowers. 
Red lips of the tulip bowers, 
Illumine Earth with Heaven's bliss, 
A soul's rejuvenation kiss. 



WILD FLOWERS AND VIOLETS 111 

WILD FLOWERS AND VIOLETS. 

Within the forest's cavern wall, 

Within the hanging moss's pall, 

Within the maze of leaflets sere 

Cleaving to twigs and branches drear, 

Midst trunks of trees in sea-weed surf 

Of green velvet carpeted turf, 

Midst the Earth's damp grief-striken leaves 

In which a lone traveler weaves 

Not e'en a keen Indian trail 

Scented to a neighboring dale ; 

To Winter enthralled in cold Death 

A groping hand stretches with stealth 

O'er the lyre of the Spring Song's tale, 

On key-notes of fast falling hail. 

In harmony of thunder show'r 

With dread lightning's dense cloudy bow'r, 

In splendor of the rainbows tint 

With spectrum struck from stony flint 

Of Winter's cold rule o'er the Earth ; 

Red, orange, yellow wild flow'r birth 

With green stems and with green leaflets 

And blue, indigo violets. 



112 RED ROSE 

RED ROSE. 

This night of red rose ! 

No darkness shall sear 
The beautiful pose 

Of twentieth year. 

Each shows a year's life 
Of the wedded bliss 

Of forgotten strife 

With seal of next kiss. 

With our children dear, 
Our friends the truest 

United to hear 

Words from Love's lips best. 

A China Wedding! 

I hear the near chimes, 
A ting-a-ling-ting 

In musical rhymes. 

A girl eight years old. 
The rattle's not seen 

Our baby does hold 

Soup plate's tambourine. 

"My Dad's the dear man 

Of all this land, 
To Mama I'll fan 

Heart beats of our band." 



LILACS 113 

"In age I now stand 

A mate to sister. 
I live in Life's strand 

Companion for her. 

Yet older than she 

With him we have fun, 
A brother with glee 

After us does run." 

"And now another 

I call him giant, 
Our oldest brother 

Now self-reliant." 

"The music now sends 
The toasts for this night 

Of tried and true friends. 
Nor more roses bright." 



LILACS. 

O, way down there under the lilacs, 
The bushes are now almost trees 

I seem to see hovering about them 
A strong boy much under his teens. 

Luminous eyes are upon me, 
They can never far away seem. 

Lilacs are forever upon them. 
Bushes are evergreen I deem. 



114 BABY FACE AND LILY OF THE VALLEY 

The sun did not always smile on us, 

The shadows reached the heart at e'en, 

But morning brought renewed endeavor, 
Forgetfulness night had it been. 

The beauty of the flowers greater, 

The rain could only fall with pleasure, 

For it knew that after the storm, 
They were even more a pleasure. 

O, flowers which come back each season, 
Forever with a bright, fresh team. 

May this boy and I look upon you 
For vigor as we row life's stream. 



BABY FACE AND LILY OF THE 
VALLEY. 

Green and white are the colors, 
"My Brother and My Sisters," 
May there be for us today 
Sunshine's very brightest ray. 

But this morning we had shadow, 
Nay, t'was more, it was a foe. 
Some one on our dainty bed 
Unconscious lay heavy tread. 

Baby- face was but injured. 
And not entirely immured, 
Mother goes with all that fall 
When there is ambulance call. 



TIGER LILY 115 

Then she tells us to be bright, 
He will watch us with His might ; 
Baby-face will soon be well 
Then again in place she fell. 

So my Lily-bell ring on 1 
May the sound never be gone 
That to the Baby-face brings 
Joy and gladness as he rings. 

Let us now begin our spread 
For each little baby head ; 
Nothing should mar birthday joy 
Is the thought of girl and boy. 

"White crown was upon her head," 
Lily-bell to himself said, 
"Baby-face my heart enthralled 
The hospital of this year called." 

"Come next year, my Baby- face 
Help me in all life year's race ; 
I, Lily of the Valley 
Birthday glee shall ring for thee." 

TIGER LILY. 

My Tiger Lily in bloom 
During last days of June, 
Your dagger within you bent 
With determined intent, 
To pierce as quiet you lie 
June's month into July ! 



116 BACHELOR BUTTONS 

Prancing position you take 
Not one in the least tame, 
Lest someone should penetrate 
Your dense jungle of hate 
Tall sun-gilded grassy sheaves 
Close to the cherry trees ! 

Beautiful tawny shade stripes 
Those that all the world likes, 
Held in a lily-cup bell 
No sound from which does knell, 
Death note of blade of grass beneath. 
Where should be your prey's wreath! 

But with a stealthy spring 
Lily leaves from earth's hinge, 
Encircling are not now loath 
To devour grassy growth, 
Tiger Lilies' tall stalks heap 
Seeds they will in time reap ! 

Not long ere time will be nigh 

July by June defied. 

Sword of Tiger fully blown 

Will lay low with its own, 

The grass sword blades in its place 

From earth's hinge interlace ! 

BACHELOR BUTTONS. 
Small flower with various dainty colors of 

delicate hues. 
By their name to children bring thoughts that 

amuse. 
As they pick them they are careful to not lose 
One from a bouquet to be put in a cruse. 



FORGET-ME-NOT BOUQUET 117 

Of the gorgeous flower world these are cher- 
ished rings of rows of pearls, 

Which can not be worn by any of the girls 

For as their own flower world around them 
whirls, 

Can it match Bachelor Buttons it unfurls? 



FORGET-ME-NOT BOUQUET. 

Spray of Forget-me-not ; 

Daintiest of all ferns, 
Of what else I know not 

Encased in silver urn. 

Do you see that pearl pin? 

It is not on the top. 
For my heart 'tis struck in, 

'Tis not a real dewdrop. 

Let me tell all my kin 
Weather devastates dew. 

Can you hear amid din? 
Pearl heart is ever new. 



FLAGS. 

"All of them are out. 
Scattered all about; 

Tomorrow morning 
Them for you I'll rout.' 



118 MY LADY PINK ROSE 

The flags stood erect, 

My dresser they decked. 

A lady brought them 
And then she had left. 



Purple and yellow, 
Have you any foe ? 

I hope that this 

You may never know. 



My faith I you trow, 
I am sure you know. 

Although you may fall 
You are never low. 



The iris brings bliss. 
You can never miss, 

As fast as one furls 
There are more to kiss. 



MY LADY PINK ROSE. 

She had clambered through the days of sum- 
mer on a trailing vine. 

Heat had fully developed her in the beauty of 
her line. 

Hers was the crown of ancestral family bliss. 

Living at the top of a near window trellis. 



MY LADY PINK ROSE 119 

Sitting in silvery rays of moonlight of a sum- 
mer night, 

Visions present the rose as a mystic neighbor 
lady bright. 

She is transfused with the purest white moon- 
beam rays, 

Shedding light to an invalid of many days. 

Daintily seeming to tread the steps of high 

ladder treUis, 
She looks at me as if there was something that 

she would fain miss, 
She asks, "Is there anything that I can do to 

bring 
The elastic movement your steps once seemed 

to sing? 

Leaning on the window ledge watching the 
moonlit sky and her, 

I scanned the twinkling stars and the man in 
the moon as it were ; 

"These," I said, "are ever the same, they ap- 
pear again, 

By no energy of nature are they ever slain." 

"They are ever helpful after dark cold and 

bitter or wet night ; 
Soon with a bright sympathy they meet us and 

cheer us by their light ; 
My steps with lively music never more ring 
But silvery tunes "My Lady Pink Rose" will 

ever bring. 



120 POND LILY 

POND LILY. 

Upon its mirrored dell 
The pond lily's leaf fell, 
Once a folded sheaf 
Of a large curved leaf 
It had kept from the reef 
Of the sun's hottest glare 
Its lily-bud 
'Twas hidden there. 

It is now strong enough 
To not wilt with rebuff; 
Redhot iron rays 
Will help with their blaze 
As they whiten the sand 
O'er all the seashore's world, 
To give its bud 
White petals curled. 

The lily-leaf lies flat 
As in a circle mat ; 
It rests now with ease, 
Only feels the breeze 
Of the water's caress 
That's held within the folds 
Of stagnant pools 
In seaweed dress. 

Life's energies tied! 
While youth at its side 
In beauty will now thread 
Its soft petals to tread 



POND LILY 121 

Clearer surface waters 
Further from the confines 
Of any limit 
Of its borders. 



It will sway to and fro, 
With any wind 'twill blow ; 
By storms it is caught, 
With strength they are fought, 
Its beauty has increased, 
When the seal of success 
Is Nature's crown 
Of pure white down. 



Ripples may come some day 
To it will bring the sway 
Of some one quite near, 
Who will hold it dear 
In intense enjoyment 
Of delicate perfume 
Of lily-bloom 
From old leaf rent. 



Age gazes at the place 
Of its own gilded race; 
It is far away 
A beautiful day ; 
It lives in filmy gauze, 
It is admired by all; 
The parent's stem 
Espoused its cause. 



122 SUN-FLOWER 

SUN-FLOWER. 

With the golden fluttering edges close by 
Was hidden a very large round brown eye 
It was with weight that the head was bent 
Upon caring for manifold seeds intent. 

A storm had made the fluttering edges frown, 
Eyelid of brown eye, petals curled down ; 
Wind from the sky shook the petals dry. 
They awoke with a start and a leaflet's sigh. 

With the strength given by the sun in the sky 
The head was lifted when noon drew nigh; 
The seeds were ripened with the sun's warm 

ray 
To be dropped in earth's bed for flowers next 

day. 

Hark ! All ye of power in this world's domain. 
Emerge from war's discouragement's pain. 
Let zephyrs assail you, God's love nigh. 
Sunflower and its seeds are living close by. 



DAISY. 

White fringes and gold. 
The story's told; 
The prairies love her 
For June's cover. 



THE WIND-MILL 123 

Gold is her dower, 
Purity her bower, 
The children advance. 
Around her dance. 

They love to pick her, 
Sometimes incur 
School tardy mark's wrath 
For bouquet's path. 

"Ting-a-ling-ling !" 
Hear the bell ring! 
But still children hold 
Pure white and gold. 

The old story's told, 
Never grows old 
Held by His purity 
"Storm of the Sea." 



THE WIND-MILL. 

The wind-mill turns while this world's life 

Pursues its busy hum of strife ; 

The arrow turns North, South, East, West, 

At the fluctuating behest 

Of varying currents of air 

Through the sky's mystic cloudy lair. 

Through Nature's mysterious way 

The air and wind come to the day ; 

'Neath its sunny or cloudy eye 

The trees o'er the world breathe or sigh. 

Or in a warring storm they fall 

And lie lowly in their death pall. 



124 A CLOUDY MORN 

In the world's fprest thus storm swept 
Sometimes not e'en a tear is wept; 
Ere the force of the storm is spent 
There is no soothing rain-drip sent, 
Though 'neath heavy cloud-laden sky 
The aggrieved forest would fain cry. 

But when the winds have rolled away 
The massive clouds of black and grey ; 
Then comes the dawn of sunshine might 
Piercing the forest with its light, 
And here and there the pure gold lays 
Of reflection of the sun's rays. 

In Nature's fallen trunks of trees 
Are raised shafts to Life's memories; 
Thou warriors ruthlessly slain 
Thy heart's strength cut by war in twain 
Thy shadowed life of loved brethren 
Is Heaven's image to all men. 



A CLOUDY MORN. 

I rose in the early morn 
Of the dark night shadows shorn 
But some clouds had not been torn 
And the day looked tired and worn. 
The storm very quickly burst 
The strong winds appeared at first 
But the earth was so athirst 
Torrents of rain were the worst. 



THE FISHER BOY 125 

"Red road in front of our cot 
You have never looked so hot 
I watched when the first rain dot 
From the heavy clouds you got." 

All the cherries on the trees 
The green and the yellow leaves 
Rain drops form the cottage eaves 
In a dower of diamonds weaves. 

In a beautiful large tree 
On a hill in front of me 
A sylvan elf there might be 
That has hold of nature's key. 

When the trees upon the hills 
Wave and turn like wind mills 
The dark storm the blue sky kills 
With soft breezes the air fills. 

Day has had its refreshment 

Joy to the world has been lent 

The clouds have all been storm spent 

Nature's anger was thus rent. 



THE FISHER BOY 

Standing on the shore 

Is a little fisher boy. 
He is astride 
Watching the tide. 

Do not him annoy ! 



126 THE FISHER BOY 

Very searchingly 

He is looking far and wide. 

To sea he'll go, 

Fish line's his tow, 
He tells Dad aside. 

Neath sun's hottest rays, 
Father and he on the pier, 

Throw out the line 

That will in time 
Dispel all his fear. 

Navy's flag on the pole. 

Five pointed stars on blue ground, 

They do entice, 

It will be nice, 
A soldier grave's mound. 

He does like the sound 
To him it is musical 

He had been brave 

Him the world gave 
Fame universal. 

The fisher boy has gone! 

But a short life's race and run! 

Long life's power 

In His dower 
May "Thy will be done." 



BOUNCING BESS 127 

BOUNCING BESS. 

Nature ! Thou mysterious loom ! 
Spin with thy finest threads thy doom. 
From thy spray make thy finest weave 
On each shore thy impression leave, 
In the slipping and sliding sand 
Cleaving every Fatherland. 

On the shore-line now travel on 

Forever weaving, never wan. 

E*en though the mist shall shroud thy sight, 

Let not thee receive its full blight. 

With thy needle firm in thy hand 

Make thy impression in the sand. 

In the full darkness of the night 
Yet press, press gnward in the fight. 
Though a storm with its billows high 
Makes thee to heave and roll and sigh 
Steady, steady though without sleep 
In thy hand firm thy needle keep. 

If the world's battles are yet on 
In the earliest hours of dawn. 
In the great surging billows place 
Thy heart's loom to win the last race. 
Courage 1 Courge ! Be now thy star, 
Guiding thy loom riding afar. 

Press onward with thy mortal fight 
In the morning hours of the light 
If thy needle's work is the right 



128 T«E WIGWAM 

Work it with all of thy loom's might, 
E'en though with courage thee may die 
In thy hand let thy needle lie. 

Ever some soldier there will spy 

Thy loom and needle at its hie; 

To its caressing foam and spray 

Will at the feet of Nature lay 

His life, if need be, none the less 

Neath loom-like fields of Bouncing Bess. 

THE WIGWAM. 

Irregular in line they stood 

The sturdy tall trees of the wood, 

The sapling underbrush close by 

With uplifted arms to the sky, 

In hope that its strength might some day 

Live in Nature's mature array 

Of dark and mossy spotted trunks 

Oft cleft that to dryads and monks 

And elves of centuries of lore 

The secret hiding places bore. 

One night a golden moon arose, 

And lit the forest in its pose 

Of leaflets of youthful saplings. 

Of needles grown of spruce-pine rings. 

Of leafy boughs of riper age. 

Of ripped bark of fairy adage. 

Of youthful ardor and of vim 

Of strength and Life's mysticism, 

Through paths of dried and sunburned leaves 

Beneath a forest's wigwam's eaves. 



ELDER BERRY 129 

Dark shadows and gold moon-beams 
Through the forest's enchanted dell, 
And breezes whistling through the trees 
Were echoed by whispering leaves, 
Whose hushed voices fell on the dead 
Withered leaves in the paths and said, 
"For our loved wigwam we repair 
Your waste as you lie in your lair; 
'Twill not be long, 'twill be our price 
To give our strength in sacrifice." 

ELDER-BERRY. 

A billowy sea 
Swaying before me, 
Five pointed white stars 
Imprinted on Heaven's blue gaze, 
In Summer's morning 
When there is no haze. 

All the blue sky sees 

Stars of Elder-berries, 

Five pointed white as snow 

In many clusters raised on poles. 

Five blossoms in each 

Mold seed vessel holes. 

Pretty humming bird 

The sweet blossoms gird. 

Sipping with his beak 

Food which to his nest he'll take, 

Elder-berry's branch 

He'll now forsake. 



130 ELDER BERRY 

He's received pontoons 

From Nature's looms, 

He'll flit now and fly 

Humming as the bee with his train 

Eagerly follows 

Aero hydroplane. 

He lights on the wire 
Of the vines, tuned lyre, 
Strung of tender strings 
That to it the tendrils may win, 
Entangled in lair 
Humming's rare din. 

In winter's morning 

No stars adorning 

Blue heaven's white haze, 

Billowy sea, crystals on lea, 

The flag poles rent. 

War storms on the sea! 



Humming bird long ago 

Had been laid very low, 

Once again in flight 

By Winter's night it had been caught, 

Elder-berry's verse 

To world will be naught. 



THE PINES 131 

THE PINES. 

From the spreading boughs of the trees 
The birds chirp merrily at ease ; 
Every morn at rising hour 
They fly into their piney bow'r, 
And with the music of their lay 
Inspire the first thoughts of the day. 

The morning's bugles thus erase 

The dreams of night that they encase ; 

For in echoing silver strains 

Are lost the darkest night's refrains, 

And in the song bird's sweetest tales 

The day is launched with silver sails. 

Midst silver stars and bluest seas, 
Midst ripples dancing on the leas, 
Midst silver sheen the day sets sail 
To water's musical bewail 
Of weeping maidens lost to sight. 
Mermaids attired in gauzy light. 

Gilt and dark leaf the spiders leave 
In phantom nets of silver weave ; 
As Day's mermaids with silver oars 
Dip sunlight and shadowy shores, 
Where on sand bluffs the tallest pines 
Guard them in their sentinel lines. 

In Ship's ethereal array 

Is days destined to sail away? 

In pines strong in shadowy might 



132 EVENING LIGHT 

Are sylvan maids concealed from sight? 
How dost thou deem to fade away? 
Wilt thou tell us ? Oh ! Ship of Day ! 

Ah! Then again we hear the lay 
The words the silver bugles say. 
But no longer wrens sing the song 
That now the whip-poor-wills prolong. 
Whose sweet clear tones in azure light 
Echo the day into the night. 



EVENING LIGHT. 

The earth was blessed with Heaven's dew 

Of silence which over it grew ; 

The world's looms ceased their busy whirrs 

When sun-flowers enclosed their burrs; 

The fisherman drew in his line a 

Which he wound on his reel of twine ; 

The ripples lapped the river shores 

With homeward bound travelers' oars ; 

The gulls flew in the golden wake 

Of sunset over sea and lake ; 

Rocking of ocean cradles lay 

In seething and whispering^ spray ; ' 

Dumb animals slept in the bow'r 

Of dimness of the twilight hour; 

No light approaching from afar 

Appeared the Heaven's brightest star 

From whose harp strings, sweetest e'er strung, 

Silver Evening Light was wrung. 



EVENING STAR 133 

EVENING STAR. 

The night's evening shades are drawing nigh 
To kill the luminous light of the sky 
Whose beaut'ous tints near the horizen stay- 
in gorgeous beauty at the end of day. 

Shadows tinge loved tints with pitiless cold 
Then Night with bold fingers does them enfold 
The stories of some days are not finished 
Victories of the light are relinquished. 

Shooting stars fretted by their prison bars 
Break from their cells as if they're iron cars 
And ride through unknown space leaving no 

trace 
Of the future places they wish to grace. 

Lost forever in the sky's firmanent 
By impatent hazardous fevers bent 
Adherence to their own might have them 

blown 
A light to Heaven as Venus is known. 

The appointed herald of the moonlight 
Which in victory vanquishes the night 
She is forever brightest in her glow 
Lovers in her near light do plight their trow. 

Night never comes to Humanity's Day 
That can not be lit by a moonbeam's ray 
Its ev'ning shades, with iron door ajar, 
Are lit by the flame of the Ev'ning Star. 



134 

"BALKAN KILKISH." 

I awoke one morning early 
Naught had disturbed my ease 
It had been but peaceful forgetfulness 
Of all that the busy world weaves. 

I saw through an open window 
Golden rift in the sky 
It was sailing as a golden vessel 
In hope with a storm close by. 

It led me to scan the landscape 
To peer at the tall trees 
That stood like many sentinel dryads 
As yet not swayed by the breeze 

Then appeared a maize of soldiers 
Of many yesterdays 
Only smaller trees in reality 
Coming to an acute gaze. 

I was in the thickest woodland 

Of hand to hand fight small trees 

The storm from heights descending upon them 

Had scarcely disturbed their leaves. 

The flames from fast falling lightning 
Lashing tongues were naught to them 
In might so closely wedged together 
Their garments they only touched the hem. 



THE soldier's LAMENT 135 

But wandering from the valley 
Ravines were now the magnets 
The wailing strongly storm spent fir trees 
Felled by nature's grenade lancets. 

The victorious vanishing 
No sad lone pine tree not pursued 
The sky's dark angry looking cloud burst 
Seems yet anxious for another feud. 

But it is suddenly gilt rimmed 

The golden sun sailing by 

May all battles like Balkan Kilkish 

In the light of His Son forever pass by. 

THE SOLDIER'S LAMENT. 

In rainbow tints that will rebound, 
Diamonds sparkling in the ground 
Are ever loved by all the world 
For the colors they have unfurled. 
A distant forest dark and drear 
Sends the sad message of a tear, 
Dropped from a dying soldier's eye 
'Tis one of earth's dew-drops near by. 

With joy it lays its life down here 

Beneath the leaves both dry and sere. 

No tinge of fear is in the crest 

Of heart foam sheathed in armored breast 

Of duty done to God and home. 

The fireside where the last thoughts roam, 

The Christmas pines that never fail 

To hear a missing one's bewail. 



136 GOLDEN ROD 

By enemies' explosives fed 

The trenches are alive with dead ; 

The cannonade is not yet stilled, 

The air with shot and shell is filled ; 

In wreaths of smoke the trees are tossed 

Wrapped in shrouds of Life's valor lost; 

But above all is that dread mist, 

Loved ones searching Christmas death list. 



GOLDEN ROD. 

We roam through fields of golden rod 

Which wave and ever sweetly nod 

And beckon midst wild grasses tall 

To us, while round about us fall 

The soldiers of the whole world's pride, 

Who die as brothers side by side 

United in the happy thought 

That their treasure cannot be bought 

Of priceless gems set in a crown 

Of country's life not yet put down. 

Joyful is all Life's sacrifice 
E'en though it be Death's darksome price. 
If at the end we reach the goal 
The dearest of all to the soul. 
Yet, why let the wild grasses grow 
That we must the golden rod mow 
Of Nations' bone and sinew strength, 
Might there be none for us at length ? 



SHADOWS 137 

With Golden-rods* beautiful glow 

May Nations' gentle peace seeds sow 

Of country's love without dissent, 

Of wild anger forever rent 

Of the desire with deadly mow 

To entirely destroy its foe. 

By world's rivalry is not meant 

That destruction should thus be sent. 

But each one striving for the best 

Gives to world's strength its greatest test. 



SHADOWS. 

Beneath the cottage porch's eaves, 
Within the shadows of the leaves 
Entwining it with a sweet grace 
Vines with Love's tendrils interlace 
The thoughts of one with ear intent 
And eye of Nature ever bent 
To hear and see its bugles ring. 
Of buzzing flies and birds that sing 
With joy to which there's no alloy 
Of discordant sound to annoy. 
While sitting watching idly by 
Where God to us on Earth is nigh. 

For with the scented country breeze 
Wafted from a hill's forest trees, 
There comes to all a whisper low 
Of unknown Presence all may know 
Who live a life of that sweet trust 
Which ev'ry bird and flower must 



138 THE prisoner's CHRISTMAS 

That lives within shadowy eaves 
Of blending boughs and forest leaves, 
And knows that time when joy is nigh 
Is when the sunlight from the sky 
Gives it the blessing of Life's might 
God's gift to those who love His Light. 

THE PRISONER'S CHRISTMAS. 

Years, years ago I was a little child, 
Born in a shepherd's hut on a hill side. 
Life then to me was an enchanted dell, 
To-day I pen the picture of Life's Hell. 

"Dark is the prison-hole that I am in ; 
There's nothing here that is to joy akin. 
O'er the old hill side a Christmas bell rang 
Here is the rattle of my pal's chain gang. 

"Many's the year I've worked on public roads 
Breaking up the stones of many car loads ; 
Thus speechless I've stood at the Christmas- 
tide 
With orders to speak to none at my side. 

"This year I'm a crippled enfeebled man, 
'Tis sure to not live much longer I can 
With work given to me in this locked cell ; 
I wish I'd listened to the Christmas bell. 

"But with the strength of impetuous youth 
I struck a man down for some words uncouth. 
A stalwart country shepherd's build was mine 
Soon he lay dead there by that old grape vine. 



CONVOCATION 139 

"He was not a man of my humble caste, 
Judgment's grappling irons soon held me fast. 
My name was taken from me in this life, 
A number given for the prison strife. 

"Endless was my imprisonment to be 
There was no repentance for such as me. 
This world's judgment seat was hard and rigid, 
My heart was to be of earthly hopes rid. 

"But now as I think of that Christmas bell 

Did I ever hear in it such a knell; 

With Time's repentance would Heaven's gates 

close 
To sinners before Him in kneeling pose?" 



CONVOCATION. 

Herald thou ! Peony king ! 
To thee we bring all flowers 
'Tis a beautiful bower 
In which you tower 
With these encircling. 

We bring thee many blossoms 
A gay canopy is yours 
Season's colors march in file 
Thou viewest meanwhile 
As each slowly comes. 



140 CONVOCATION 

A most reverent bow 
Which is very natural 
Each one to the king makes 
When blossom bud takes 
What is't to endow. 

We are very proud of you 
Waved flowers from their bower 
As to the memories renew 
When the old winds blew 
King gave them their dew. 

Smiles from the procession file 
Make hearts of old flowers glad 
Then from ivy-covered wall 
Sounds of applause fall 
Echoes heard a mile. 

Scarlet of rare poppy's red 
Color of hood among men 
With head bent calls once again 
Those the king would ken 
Honored flower bed. 

Bids music lend to the winds 
Her charms obey his commands 
As these in their pride advance 
And with slow entrance 
Nature's choicest binds. 

With these puts on some like gown 
And hood of beautiful hue 
As courtiers stand in a ring 
Of other realm's king 
Of far college town. 



CONVOCATION 141 



Fairest columbine reviewed 
In thoughts of those far away 
Where dinging ivy now stands 
In beautiful strands 
Close to stone walls nude 

King expresses his desire 
"Baccalaureate Address" 
He takes Jack in Pulpit stand 
Among his gay band 
And uses his lyre. 

Horticultural intent's 
Today's tide is at high ebb 
Co-operation in cause 
Antiseptic gauze 
Will you give a pence? 

There are none in world so dense 
But that we might them impale 
Canary Peony bring 
That these walls may ring 
Sing Brother Sing, Hence 

Like some pure white butterfly 
With a touch of yellow hue 
As with vari-colored bands 
The canary stands 
Flitting a good bye. 

Among vari-colored hue 
Marching season's gay ribbands 
Insignia of their corps 
Sings to one he wore 
"To you I'll be true." 



142 CONVOCATION 

This is ringing in the air 
It is not so long ago 
That I found upon a reef 
A pretty fern leaf 
In rose boutoniere. 



"FLEETING VISIONS." 
Chapter 1. 

An invitation was extended to me to a re- 
ception, in the art-rooms of my native city. 
After an acknowledgment of the kindness 
of the receiving ladies, I passed from one 
room to another, looking at the collection of 
pictures with intense enjoyment, until at 
length, physically weary, I sat down in front 
of two pictures, whose complete dissimi- 
larity, and yet neighboring vicinity attracted 
my attention. 

One was a sea-scene representing mothers' 
and children's enjoyment of bathing pleas- 
ures; its neighbor, a war-scene. 

I was surprised by a delicately beautiful 
lady suddenly pausing before the identical 
pictures so interesting to me. It was only 
for a minute that she thus stood, but long 
enough for me to notice the rich complexion 
change, as a youth of very fine appearance 
joined her, a quick recovery of self, an im- 
pulsive clasp of his hand, and disappearance 
from the view of the two pictures. 

A few years later, I was lying on a bam- 
boo settee on the large piazza of a small 
summer cottage, enjoying the beauty of na- 
ture surrounding me. The sky was of a 
beautiful deep blue, a bird twittered in one 
of the forest trees on the small hill, which 



144 

rose from the road in front of me, and, at a 
short distance, the waves were enjoying their 
daily playfulness on the sands, sending the 
echoing sounds to my ears. 

The bird suddenly flew, from the pretty 
forest hill-side, into a little tree close to the 
road, and thence into the tall grass of a 
neighboring meadow-land, picking from the 
earth crumbs, and then lending its wings to 
flight into the beautiful, warm, sunshiny 
depths above. 

"The World." 
Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World, 
With the wonderful water round you curled, 
And the wonderful grass upon your breast — 
World, you are beautifully drest! 

The wonderful air is over me. 
And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree; 
It walks on the water and whirls the mills, 
And talks to itself on the top of the hills. 

You friendly Earth, how far do you go, 
With the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers 

that flow. 
With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles, 
And people upon you for thousands of 

miles ? 

Ah, you are so great and I am^ so small, 
I tremble to think of you, World, at all ; 
And yet, when I said my prayers to-day, 
A whisper inside me seemed to say. 



"fleeting visions" 145 

"You are more than the Earth, though you 
are such a dot; 

You can love and think, and the Earth can- 
not." 

— Lilliput Levee. 

"Cuckoo!" I heard very faintly the cot- 
tage parlor clock strike, and then — 

I seemed to be with a very large sea-bird, 
far away in a different clime, of tropical 
growth, even a bluer sky, of snow-capped 
mountains, smoking volcanoes, and we were 
close to a surging sea, in the top-most 
branches of beautifully spreading trees, look- 
ing down at the figures of a very few people 
on the lower branches. 

As I looked a little higher into a bluff, I 
saw a beautiful villa, and then I knew that I 
was in some private summer resting place of 
some one of high distinction, and, as I gazed 
again, I saw the face of the lady, whom I 
had once seen in the art-rooms, and children 
were lying on the spreading boughs of the 
trees around her. She was smiling at some 
of the children's sayings, and the bright light 
of happiness, spreading over her features, 
gave her an air of sublimity in her easy pose 
among the beauties of nature. 

But, suddenly, a look of care came, and I 
saw her lightly jump from the branches of 
the trees, and hasten to the water's edge. 
With her hand, lifted to her forehead, to 
protect her eyes from the searching rays of 



146 "fleeting visions" 

the sun, she scanned the beautifully green 
tinted waves with their foaming spray, until, 
after a light waving of her arm to some dis- 
tant object on the water, I, at last, saw that 
some one was moving toward her, and, fin- 
ally, a young man of noble mien, her son, 
for so I heard her call him, the youth, whom 
I had once seen with her, came out of the 
waves. According to the impulse of her 
warm, loving nature, typical of her country, 
she threw her arms about him, and then, 
quickly releasing, looked at him radiantly. 

The bird flew to the villa, and perched at 
eventide, where the beautiful library and its 
occupants were visible. At the table close to 
the lady sat her husband. I knew this at 
once from the resemblance of the young 
man. The father held a paper crunched 
tightly, and he watched her closely, as he 
spread it before her, I saw that it had an 
official appearance, and, that even the father, 
of the strongest appearance in both form 
and character, visibly trembled with strong 
suppressed emotion. 

I now saw an ashen hue spread over the 
mother's delicate beauty, and, as he clasped 
her hand firmly in his fear for her, and both 
heads bowed as if in silent prayer, he said, 
"Our son must leave our home to-night, 
for a foreign port, to fulfill his duty as com- 
mander in the navy. Our country has been 
attempting to avert partaking in this war of 
nations for many years, but as ours is the 



"fleeting visions" 147 

only one which has no monetary interests in- 
volved, we can unselfishly intervene, and hope 
to prevent thousands of people, including 
many innocent women and children lying en- 
trapped, from being mercilessly slain. We 
must keep ships from supplying arms." 

The pallor of the delicate lady had deep- 
ened, and, in a few minutes, the bird flying 
to the edge of the roof, I was looking into 
one of the beautiful bay-windows of an ex- 
quisitely flowered tapestried bed-room, with 
a view of many miles over the sea. 

But the mother's head, so carefully placed 
by loving hands among the soft pillows of 
the couch was turned in the opposite direc- 
tion from the sea, and the expression of her 
face pictured the "Breaking of Home Ties." 

A few hours later I was following a huge 
war vessel, steadily and determinedly pursu- 
ing its course through the beautiful moon-lit 
waters, and once I caught the fearless, un- 
daunted expression of the young commander, 
standing at duty's call with love of country 
stamped upon him, not only by the insignia 
of his uniform, but by his countenance, as 
he lifted his head toward the starry firma- 
ment, for heavenly inspiration to fulfill his 
duty, whatever the cost. 

In the very earliest morning hours, he was 
peering into the distance with the aid of ^ a 
glass, and I heard the words muttered, "A 
Ship with Arms. But we shall reach shore 
first." 



148 "fleeting visions" 

Then turning his glass in all directions to 
be certain that he had lost nothing within 
sight, he said, 

"Another ship, but not a war-vessel. Of 
that I am certain even at great distance." 

A little time elapsing, I saw him land with 
his cannoneer, and plant the cannon on shore 
pointing to sea. At a short distance away 
from the sea, on the high hills, almost moun- 
tains rising to my view, were on the one 
side, numberless gleaming lances and fiery 
steeds, and, on the other, as many variously 
colored uniforms and guns. In the valleys 
was a sea of humanity. 

The son had his commands from the brave 
father, who had many times taken risks of 
his life for love of his country. No time was 
lost. Alone he stood with his cannoneer. 
Soon signs of surrender of the "Ship with 
Arms" were perceptible. Explosions had set 
the magazines on fire, and the large amount 
of water necessary to keep the fire under 
control was sinking the ship. 

At the same time in the hills near at hand, 
I discerned a huge cloud of sand, which 
spoke of the rapid disappearance of the 
steeds and gleaming lances. I heard a ter- 
rific shout of joy rise from the valleys, and 
a cessation of hostility was visible among the 
numberless gayly uniformed armed throng. 



"fleeting visions" 149 

Chapter 2. 

The hour of sunset was at hand, and 
through the gaps of the hills a fiery furnace 
had glowed, reflecting tracks of gold on the 
deep blue of the sea. Then dense smoke 
surrounding those at the cannon had been 
wafted in the direction of the hills, transfus- 
ing them with lovely misty gray hue above 
the many scarlet hollows. 

At just a little distance above one hill, 
there seemed to be a large powerful vapor 
clad rock. It looked like an immense table- 
land in the sky, with projections supporting 
it that resembled hoofs of immense animals. 
The side edges of the rock were gilded, and 
the back-edge was so thick and rich with 
gold, that it seemed to be the entrance to a 
golden land in the heights. 

The atmosphere about the cannon became 
at last perfectly clear. The cannoneer, of 
noble presence, with his fine form clad in 
khaki, stood erect by the side of the large 
cannon, both facing the sea. And on the 
other side of the cannon, he, with his face in 
the direction of the sea, was the young corn- 
mander, the long blue coat and many gilt 
buttons at once denoting his rank, but he 
was prostrate, motionless. 

Intense emotional trembling seemed to pos- 
sess me, and, the next instant, when I cast 
my eyes toward the immense vapory rock, I 
saw the face and form of his mother, and 



150 "fleeting visions" 

there was a multitude standing on the flat- 
tened surface of the rock. There was the 
sweetest chanting of angels' voices within my 
soul of "Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward 
Men." 

The shades of night now began to be 
thrown over the entire sky, and directly over- 
head the scene of war, signs of a storm were 
fast appearing. The large bird spread his 
wings and flew rapidly, sometimes descend- 
ing and skimming the surface of the sea, and 
then again ascending, until the motion of the 
air, becoming so swift from the effect of 
the storm, which had now fully burst over 
the sea, raising the waves into immense foam 
bursting billows, the bird lit upon a protected 
place on the top of a cliff. 

The wind whistled, moaned, and shrieked. 
There were flashes of lightning, succeeded by 
supreme darkness, and the thunderbolts were 
as the echoes of cannoneering. In the in- 
terim, loud cracking sounds were carried to 
my ears, rendering me very curious, and as 
each flash of lightning came, I peered in- 
tently beneath the cliff in the direction 
from which the sounds escaped. A ship was 
fast losing its life, and no life-boat could 
live amidst that roaring sea, nor could hu- 
man soul ascend the steep cliff. As the fleet- 
ing visions came to me from the gleaming 
lights, the ship was torn asunder, and aflame, 
and clinging to the masts were the flags of 
every nation. 



"fleeting visions" 151 

In the most vivid flash from the unknown 
depths above, I saw the "Ship of Universal 
Peace" sink into the darkness beneath, suc- 
ceeded by the most awful shrieking, howling, 
triumphant echoing sound, as it was engulfed 
in the hollow of the sea. It was the first 
voyage in unknown waters, and had not 
taken the warning of the signs of storm. It 
was too late to put an end to the cannon- 
eering thunder-bolts hurled from earth, and 
to escape their destruction from above. 

The bird, venturing a little too near to an 
edge of the cliff, had been struck by the last 
vivid flash, and was falling when I, real- 
izing that I was with the bird, suddenly at- 
tempted to save myself by taking a step 
down in my sleep on the settee. This motion 
at once awakened me at the twelfth hour of 
the day, the last of that golden morning and 
just as "Cuckoo" coming out of the door-way 
of his little retreat, twelve times proclaimed 
the late hour. 

Startled, I rose from the couch, and 
walked from the piazza into the parlor, 
where the cottage-clock hung upon the pol- 
ished oak wall. I sank into an easy chair, 
but I noticed that "Cuckoo" stood silently 
watching me from the open door-way, as 
"tick-tock, tick-tock" seemed to sound so 
loud in the otherwise noiseless room, and "A 
Poem for To-day," "The Love of God," by 
Bernard Rascas, vibrated. 



152 "fleeting visions" 

All things that are on earth shall wholly pass 

away, 
Except the love of God, which shall live and 

last for aye. 
The forms of men shall be as they had never 

been; 
The blasted groves shall lose their fresh and 

tender green : 
The birds of the thicket shall end their pleas- 
ant song, 
And the nightingale shall cease to chant the 

evening long. 
The kine of the pasture shall feel the dart that 

kills, 
And the fair white flocks shall perish from the 

hills. 
The goat and antlered stag, the wolf and the 

fox. 
The wild boar of the wood, and the chamois 

of the rocks. 
And the strong and fearless bear, in the trod- 
den dust shall lie; 
And the dolphin of the sea, and the mighty 

whale shall die. 
And realms shall be dissolved, and empires be 

no more, 
And they shall bow to death, who ruled from 

shore to shore ; 
And the great globe itself, so the holy writings 

tell. 



153 

With the rolling firmament, where the starry 

armies dwell, 
Shall melt with fervent heat — they shall all 

pass away, 
Except the love of God, which shall live and 

last for aye! 



154 THE EUROPEAN SITUATION 

THE EUROPEAN SITUATION. 

A War Poem. 

We are wrapped in the mystery 
Of the greatest war's history, 
That has happened since all the world 
Of warriors have flags unfurled. 

For sounds of conflict far and wide 
Come to us from the other side 
Of the ocean whose cable-bell 
Rings forth the enormous death knell. 

Women by aged sextons led, 
Silently in procession tread 
The farms and villages where lie 
The men who for their country die. 

Ghoul-like in torch and lantern light. 
The old and bent men raise at night 
The soldier heroes from the throe 
Of nameless graves no one may know. 

The officers oft bravely stand. 
And can not seek protection's hand 
Of lying close to Mother Earth 
To seek of deadly marks a dearth. 

They fall to win a victory 
For men who are intrenched lowly. 
Women mark the graves with a cross 
Where sacrifice is in Life's loss. 



THE EUROPEAN SITUATION 155 

The French and German cavaJry, 
With hand to hand, fight as bravely 
As the bold warriors of old 
Of whom in history we're told. 

Not with the dagger and the knife, 
But with the sword and lance; the strife 
Is ended when man from his horse 
Falls in War's pitiless remorse. 

Flower armies of Austrians, 
Of Poles, Russians and Servians 
Are scythed till there is Sorrow's wail 
Of no comrade to tell the tale. 

Great Britain, Belgium, India, 
Australia, and Algeria, 
Their allied strength to France combine 
Against the German battle-line. 

A city of intrenchments lies 

Beneath one of God's most blue skies. 

The wires of telephony 

Live in ditch and earth flowery. 

Both the Baltic and the North Sea 
Are mined that war cruisers may be 
Turned aside from their deadly path 
To wreak War's stern revengeful wrath. 

.Thus hidden 'neath this war city, 
We find the soldiers patiently 
Lying in many trenches deep 
To eat their food and e'en to sleep. 



156 THE EUROPEAN SITUATION 

Rapid-firing guns, at their sides 
Are the explosive mines they hide, 
That enemies may not entwine 
And surround miles of battle line. 

But sometimes an undercurrent 
Will the explosive mines so rent 
That the war-cruisers then sail on 
And thus hold the coveted pawn. 

Dirigible, aeroplane 
Alight in the near village lane 
And prospect all of the countries. 
And then fly over land and seas. 

Then large cities extinguish light. 

That they may not feel the dread might 

Of bombs dropped on them from the skies, 

To shatter all that near them lies. 

The Wheels of War will finely grind. 

But yet, there is a light behind 

Its mystery that all can ken, 

"Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward Men." 



THE FOUR CATS 157 

THE FOUR CATS. 

Said the mother cat, 
"Let us have a chat," 
As she viewed her four Httle ones on the mat. 

They sat in a row 
In a posture low 
Except the youngest who now stood on tip-toe. 

They looked very bright 
As well they all might, 
For they knew very fine news would be in 
sight. 

She then said with cheer, 
"It is so hot here, 
To the country we must go, I greatly fear." 

"But we need a home 
From which we may roam 
To enjoy our plunges into the white foam." 

They looked very trim, 
But their eyes grew dim. 
With tears of joy at the thought of a fine 
swim. 

"Telegraph from here," 
Said the oldest "Dear," 
"Let's ask for a farm house in some country 
near." 



158 THE FOUR CATS 

This was quickly done, 
Then they took a run, 
Soon bargained with the owner for a small 
sum. 

And then this recruit 
Donned each a bath-suit, 
While as they wandered they ate from the 
trees' fruit. 

This dear little band 
Often sat on sand, 
Also ate some fine lunches of all things 
canned. 

A few friends were near 
Who were very dear, 
And they played on the sand until night was 
near. 

They would tie their ties, 
All bid their good-byes, 
Hoping that tomorrow might bring them blue 
skies. 

They all drank their tea, 
Always ate with glee, 
Thinking of the next day's swimming in the 
sea. 

To bed they now go, 
Dreaming of a row. 
If "Dad" comes from the city their boat to 
tow. 



THE FOUR CATS 159 

Mother sat up late, 
It seemed to be fate. 
With a very new found friend whose name 
was "Kate." 

Her home was on hill, 
High above a mill. 
And some hired help of hers all that land did 
till. 

As the midnight hour 
Tolled from a tower. 
With lantern in hand she went to her bower. 

Mother took a peep 
At each one asleep, 
Very soon she was in a slumber deep. 

What was that, thunder? 
Was now her wonder. 
As she awoke with the shaking of lumber. 

Two strokes from tower 
Soon told her the hour 
Quite brave though she was she began to 
cower. 

The night was moon-lit 
Which might help a bit, 
To peer from the window to see what to hit. 

Suddenly a jar 
Like in a wrecked car, 
Made her escape through space like a shoot- 
ing star. 



160 THE FOUR CATS 

Now a cannon boom 
Shot her from the room, 
She tried to rouse all to their coming doom. 

But the masculines 
Were loath to pay fines, 
Of lost slumber in the land of the wood-bines. 



Screaming as she might, 
Their sleep was too tight, 
For them to waken to engage in cat fight. 

She was in despair. 
Which was very rare, 
When reason developed cause for her night- 
mare. 

Freedom of rafter 
From any plaster. 
Makes slight sounds seem loud and travel 
much faster. 

It was only Mall 
Who was very tall, 
As his bed was too small he was pounding 
wall. 

With a blush of shame 
For any such fame 
She retired once more desiring a new name. 



THE FOUR CATS 161 

Early the next day 
Ma told of affray, 
Mall could not remember nor could he say nay. 

At thought of the fright 
He laughed with his might. 
But then he began to think it might not be 
right. 

He saw her flurry 
So was in a hurry, 
To not be happy and say, "I should worry." 

She then quickly said, 
"I shall need some thread, 
Walk to the town with me and be gay instead." 

The day was quite warm 
With no sign of storm, 
And they jollied along without any form. 

"Keep middle of road 
They sang, was their code." 
Unless an "auto" drove them from their abode. 

They walked at the side 
While others took ride, 
Which in their happiness they could well 
abide. 

They sat on the grass 
With joy watched the lass 
Who walked with the boy with a fine string 
of bass. 



162 THE FOUR CATS 

And now they arose 
After a little doze, 
Then felt after that even far more jocuse. 

Mall said, "Let us hie, 
I do not wish rye, 
But in town is ice cream I would like to try." 

"It is now so hot," 
She answers, "Why not, 
And what do you think of the new 'turkey- 
trot'?" 

"Don't josh," answered he, 
"I can happy be 
While I leave turkey-trot for night after tea." 

They thus poked the fun 
As they had just done, 
In a very short time to a bridge had run. 

This led to the town ; 
Would she wrinkle gown, 
If for a minute to rest Ma should lie down? 

Mall and she thought not 
Though she had no cot 
(She had slept in grass since she was "a 
small tot"). 

She enjoyed clover, 
And then Mall drove her 
To run the willow path faster than a "Ro- 
ver." 



THE FOUR CATS 163 

At the end of which 
Side walks edged the ditch 
And they walked with dignity to *'Ice Cream 
Kitch." 

The room was pretty, 
'Twould be a pity, 
If to it there should not be sung "A Ditty." 

Look in the window, 
Please choose from the row 
Of pretty objects a present for a beau. 

The door is ajar 
Do not stand afar 
For within there is nothing your joy to mar. 

The tables are bare 
But polished with care. 
Made of a stained green wood which is some- 
what rare. 

Scent of nasturtiums 
From table vase comes. 
On the large soda fountain are the **Yum- 
Yums." 

Walls of green panel 
Are willing to sell 
Banners and trophies that life of college tell. 

There is a mixture 
Of funny picture 
Delft and Dutch ware on cabinet green fix- 
ture. 



164 THE FOUR CATS 

As in all stores 
Glass cases with doors 
On high stands "to look" Kitty jumps on all 
fours. 

Something to take home 
A jewel or comb 
On tour of inspection causes her to roam. 

After having fun 
Making selection, 
She falls to the floor as if she weighs a ton. 

Just under her feet 
It cannot be cheat, 
There is something to her which smells very 
sweet. 

About her dangles 
Something to wrangle. 
And she finds herself trifling in "a tangle." 

Of very fine weave 
Indians did leave 
Sweet grass baskets and to one of these she 
cleaved. 

At last she rolled out. 
As she was not stout, 
And escaped at the "Open Door" without 
doubt. 

"There is a menu," 
Said Mall at first view, 
"So shall I now order sundaes for us two." 



THE FOUR CATS 165 

Ma said that would do 
Although it was true 
Ice cold mixtures were not as a rule her cue. 

Mall knew this was so 
And so as her beau, 
He studied the menu something else to know. 

He was within inch 
Of giving her pinch, 
When he read that coffee was served with 
sandwich. 

They talked as they ate 
At a very good rate, 
Which made a very delightful tete-e-tete. 

A storm has risen, 
We are in prison, 
Dark gloom and tat-a-tat-tat made decision. 

Drenching rubber coat 
As if from a moat, 
Comes to near table with mate on whom to 
dote. 

Face was shining, 
Love was entwining, 
Live for each other is for our divining. 

Storm's vengeance wreaks, 
Everything creaks, 
Lightning is visible with freak after freak. 



166 THE FOUR CATS 

Coat's owner is meek 
When leak after leak, 
Compels him a nail in distant nook to seek. 

After refreshment 
Force of storm was rent, 
To some other place the couple's steps were 
bent. 

They left as if Hfe 
Never had a strife, 
And he with the look some day she'll be my 
wife. 

The spell was broken 
There was no token 
Of else but sunshine since the world had 
woken. 

The mother arose, 
The mood was not prose. 
But with sentiment she must have had a doze. 

"With our loves at home 
Oh, where shall we roam 
Tonight," she asks Mall as she stops to buy a 
comb. 

» 

He replies, "Dear Marm, 
There can be no harm 
If we seek at pavilion dance music's charm." 



THE FOUR CATS 167 

**Come, then let us start. 
At farm get a tart, 
And ask friends to go with us in large hay 
cart." 

With you I agree, 
'Twill be a levee 
To see moon-light on the river and the lea. 

'Twas not Switzerland 
Where the mountains stand, 
Which people travel to see from ev'ry land. 

Here the breezes fanned 
Many hills of sand, 
And one sand mountain was boasted in this 
land. 

This was a delight 
To ev'ry one's sight, 
To climb it one had to work with all one's 
might. 

It had its renown 
In every town, 
Where all took much pleasure looking at its 
crown. 

Observatory 
Overlooked the lea, 
'Twas free to climb to top and there was no 
key. 



168 THE FOUR CATS 

The light of the moon 
Was not at all soon, 
But tireless spectators put hay-cart "in car- 
toon." 

Friends were on all four 
Talking ancient lore, 
Which had no end as one always thought of 
more. 

Old-time songs echoed 
O'er the fresh hay mowed, 
When out of which there suddenly 
jumped a toad. 

All of fashion's crew 
Gave tremendous mew, 
The pretty dresses present were 
not a few. 

There was a fine tease 
Who began to wheeze 
Toad must be put on some one so 
he must seize. 

Friends jumped on his back 
To put him off track. 
Which made the wheels of old wagon 
start to crack. 

Host now made a toast 
To departed ghost, 
For to make quick escape it had 
done its most. 



THE FOUR CATS 169 

Now with dignity 
Of beauty of lea, 
River, and moonlight they talk as busy bee. 

"Sand mountain, I'll climb 
Without any dime," 
Said Mall to his friends, "If you'll make me a 
rhyme.'* 

"To-morrow," they cried, 
"Even if they died. 
In that springless hay-cart they would take 
that ride." 

Friends, song fashion, tease 
Disappeared with breeze. 
Beneath trees where none could even see a 
squeeze. 

The lights of the town 
Soon made them all frown, 
But they soon reached the dance hall of great 
renown. 

With many a cheer 
At last we are here. 
They all quickly tumbled from the wagon's 
rear. 

They paid to enter, 
'Twas due to renter, 
For this made the audience so much better. 



170 THE FOUR CATS 

They were soon in whirl, 
No one wore a pearl, 
Dame Fashion decreed the hair should have 
no curl. 

Dance began to lag. 
All looked at the rag, 
The war battered remnants of a fine old flag. 

It hung very proud, 
Could never be cowed, 
Allegiance to country was forever vowed. 

It inspired a joy 
Which made dancers coy, 
*'No one in this world could with their free- 
dom toy." 



THE FRENCH PRIEST. 
Chapter 1. 

"Tick-tock" chimed the antique clock in 
one of the oldest monasteries of France It 
was the evening hour when the Abbe ob- 
sorbed m the vespers from which he' had 
come, entered his sanctuary. His gaze was 
absently fixed on the front of the room 
where two stamed glass windows reaching to 
the floor had been thrown open, revealing 
glimpses of the sunset. He passed through 
the open door-way which led to a stone 
porch with balustrades, supporting at inter- 
vals stone images of Cupids holding vases 
filled with gay flowers. He descended the 
stone steps to a garden with finely trimmed 
hedges. Close by were rich farm land and a 
meadow which reached the sea not far away. 
In the distance to the right were snow- 
capped mountains. To the left were high 
hills and as the great golden globe descended 
in the blue sky, its reflection filled the sea 
with golden rivers. "Sweeping through the 
golden streets," came involuntarily from the 
Abbe. He stood entranced for a short time 
and then retraced his steps to the porch- 
threshold of his sanctuary, and turned to 
speak to *une jeune fille charmante' who was 
sitting at one end of his library table 



172 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

"Elise," said he, "those breaths of sunshine 
have invigorated me for my work." Then 
he entered the room and sat down at the end 
of the long table facing her, and his quill 
began to work on various manuscripts. For 
some time the scratching of the quill and 
"tick-tock" were the only sounds of life fill- 
ing the very large room, the ceiling of 
which was the roof of the main building, 
supported by rafters inlaid with various an- 
cient emblems. 

The side walls were hung with antlers, 
skins, emblazonry and other trophies of a 
family of nobility. For in the days of the 
monarchy the monastery had been a castle, 
and the regal chair in which Elise was sit- 
ting had been designed for the entertainment 
of the king. The wood work was finely 
carved ebony, and it was upholstered in scar- 
let velvet. There were many pieces of fur- 
niture of antique design in the very large 
room, which were all of wood work and up- 
holstery similar to the regal chair. On ac- 
count of the castle's situation on the side of 
a hill, it had been built irregularly in a ram- 
bhng fashion, "sprawling" on the hill, as it 
was styled by travelers. Consequently, 
there were many towers and turrets crown- 
ing the annexes of the main building. 

In all of the buildings there were many 
stained glass windows which had been in- 
stalled by the monastery, and were of re- 
ligious character. Reflected colorings were 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 173 

at present being thrown by the glowing sun- 
set against the large hardwood mantel-piece 
with candelabra and candles at each end, and 
as a ray stole a sly peep at Elise's hair, it 
proclaimed it threads of gold. This, with a 
face which had been imbued since early 
childhood with the serenity and sacredness of 
the monastery, and a slight figure enveloped 
in a summer costume of soft clinging white 
material, and daintily slippered feet, lent to 
a great degree to the attractiveness of the 
Abbe's sanctuary. Especially as, with head 
bent a little, her fingers were effecting ex- 
quisite lace work. 

The venerable Abbe, with dark loose-gown 
and cap, and face whose lineaments betok- 
ened an unusual gentle and kind character, 
was interrupted in his writing by *un ser- 
vant' who presented a letter to him. "Le 
servant" withdrew and the Abbe was laying 
it on the table for perusal at some less occu- 
pied moment, when the foreign post mark of 
a far distant country caught his notice, and 
he said quietly, *Tres etrange.' Although 
Father Evere's voice had been nearly inaud- 
ible, the previous long continued intense 
quiet had rendered Elise's hearing acute, and 
she started, looking up from her work toward 
him. But perfect composure and self con- 
trol were now his attitude, as he read the 
letter. However, Elise's serenity had become 
disturbed ; she felt the presence of some dis- 
quieting force, and that her kind Father had 



174 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

received news of this nature. At intervals 
she glanced at him shyly and curiously. 

Directly in front of the Abbe, reflected 
from one of the beautiful stained glass win- 
dows, an image of our Saviour, dressed as 
a shepherd in exquisite scarlet and pink loose 
robe, holding a stafif and with halo about his 
head had appeared in the very highly pol- 
ished top-surface of a portion of the table. 
Elise had resorted to a continued searching 
look into the Abbe's countenance. The deep 
wrinkles of his face had become hardened, 
his mouth having taken the appearance of 
firm determination, and his forehead having 
the first dark frown that she had ever seen 
there. Intended refusal to a request for aid, 
on account of some injury latent for many 
years, forced from the tightly pressed lips 
of the Abbe, "His son can not come here." 
The letter suddenly dropped from his fingers, 
and in looking forward a glimpse at the re- 
flected image caused an instantaneous restora- 
tion of the Father's kind and gentle counte- 
nance. Looking into Elise's beautiful star- 
tled eyes he said more gently than usual, "I 
had almost fallen, Elise. As soon as I write 
an answer to this letter, I have something 
important to tell you. An immediate re- 
sponse is absolutely necessary." 

"Tick-tock," and the scratching of his 
quill were again for some time the only 
sounds in the room, until "un servant" en- 
tered to light the hearth and candles, as the 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 175 

very large room always grew cold during 
the evening hour. The Abbe put his seal on 
the envelope, and gave 'le servant' instruc- 
tions to take it to the village post-office in 
haste. All was so bright and cheerful. As 
the door closed behind the hurried messen- 
ger, Father Evere arose from his work and 
touched Elise lightly on her shoulder as he 
passed her chair in approaching the hearth. 
The bright flames cheered his heart and he 
said happily, ''Evening and you, Elise. 
Come, I have something unusual to tell you." 

She had been brought to him, a little or- 
phan, with lovely golden hair and true blue 
eyes, by friends of her departed parents. 
She had been left to their care, and after the 
estate of the parents had been settled, it was 
found that the little girl who had been pre- 
viously surrounded with every luxury would 
be "pauvre." These friends knew the kind 
Abbe, and that the refined luxury of his 
monastery would be similar to her past life, 
if he would accept her as his protege. The 
attractive personality of the child helped the 
bravery of her friends in their suggestion. 
It resulted as they hoped. He loved her as 
his own child from the first time he saw her. 

For many years her instruction in music 
had been thorough, and the Abbe now led 
her to an exquisitely gilded harp, ornamented 
with relief figures, bringing to mind events 
of the crusades. He then sat in a large 
chair before the fire. Elise was one of a 



176 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

sympathetic nature who could adapt herself 
to others' moods. The strains of "Long, 
Long Ago" began to softly yet forcibly per- 
meate the very large room. The Abbe 
seemed lost in retrospection and finally closed 
his eyes. Elise wondered whether she had 
put him to sleep, instead of rendering it more 
easy for him to disclose some long hidden 
truths. She began to doubt that she had ap- 
plied the suitable musical adaptation. How- 
ever, she quietly continued, until the reso- 
nance of the last strain had melted away. 

The Abbe's eyes opened at once. "You 
have interpreted me as you always do," said 
he. "A beautiful little sister was once my 
partner in life. We had been left in our 
native country in a large private school kept 
by friends of our parents, while they took a 
long sea voyage. Delicacy of health on the 
part of each seemed to demand it, and al- 
though loath to leave us they finally set sail. 
A year passed, during which time my dear 
little sister and I were constant companions 
and playmates, the absence of our parents 
rendering our love ties more binding. One 
day I noticed that our whole school was in 
mourning. I mean that everyone looked sad. 
There was not a bright face. I, a boy filled 
with the joy of living, searched everywhere 
for a happy countenance. Nowhere could I 
find it, so I finally withdrew silently to the 
confidence of my cherished playmate, my sis- 
ter. 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 177 

"Marie," said I, "there is some trouble in 
this school, and I am alarmed. I am afraid 
to venture a word to anyone. I have seen 
several crying, and those who are not, look 
too sad to talk. You and I are the only 
very young children here, and I suppose they 
will tell us the very last what is the matter. 
But, forget it," said I, the next minute, as I 
saw her loved little countenance growing 
extremely thoughtful, for from earliest mem- 
ories I never could see the radiance of that 
beautiful face darkened. 

"The next minute I was engaged in some 
boyish freak which brought peal after peal 
of laughter from my solitary audience. I 
finally forgot that I was the actor, and be- 
tween acts I was indulging in the heartiest 
outbursts of laughter, when the door creaked 
and — those faces again seemed to haunt me 
through that cautiously and partly opened 
door. I suddenly slipped from the immense 
horse I was riding, which was composed of 
numerous chairs, tables and hassocks com- 
piled, and fell in a heap to the floor with a 
sprain and faint. 

"In the quiet of my room where I was 
held a prisoner for many weeks, when I was 
strong enough, very quietly and gently, the 
terrible news of both father and mother hav- 
ing been lost at sea was told to me by a lady 
who had deeply loved my mother. I can see 
the white muslin curtains blowing in the early 
spring breezes, as I lay and thought and fin- 



178 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

ally I said, **Does Marie know?" The next 
instant the lovely lady put Marie in her place 
and our heart sobs and tears mingled. Push 
the curtains aside, Elise, and look at the 
beautiful mountains on the outskirts of the 
village. In a grotto in those mountains, a 
man lived as a hermit for many years, and 
that man had passed our school every day 
at noon from the time I remembered enter- 
ing the school. He had the habit of scanning 
the boys' faces very closely as they indulged 
in their play. He always carried magazines 
and many papers. 'Certainment,' the people 
of the town called him a miser, who was 
hiding his bags of gold in the grotto. But 
as he never disturbed the peace of any one, 
he was allowed to go about the town with- 
out further comment. 

**When Marie had become sufficiently calm, 
I said to her, 'Our hermit was passing our 
school that terrible morning and I remember 
that he was exceptionally busy reading the 
newspaper while walking, when suddenly, he 
stopped and asked a boy a question and 
Jacques raised his arm and pointed at me 
over the heads of the boys surrounding him. 
Marie, I wish you could find or buy a copy 
of that paper. I must read of the great sea 
disaster.' Just then she drew away from my 
bed a little, and at the other end of the room, 
were my eyes to be trusted? I saw the her- 
mit. But his suit now was of the finest cloth, 
not the rusty, cave-looking garment, and he 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 179 

\yas clean shaven, and was entirely priest- 
like in appearance. He came toward me with 
the lady, who said, This gentleman is a 
cousin of mine from my native heath, where 
we both lived twenty years ago. At that 
time he was Abbe of a monastery and I was 
Mother Superior. But destruction fell upon 
our building in the form of terrible dynamite 
explosions causing us all to flee for our lives. 
For several days and nights my Cousin and 
I hid in the forests, and mountain caves, and 
grottoes until we had passed the borderline 
of our country. The Abbe was especially 
pursued as he held in his possession the 
wealth of the monastery in the form of gold 
securities. Our destination was the grotto in 
which he has lived for many years. But 
I received a position at once as teacher in 
this school in which your dear mother re- 
ceived a part of her education. My cousin 
decided that he liked the mountain life near 
this small town, as he had been deprived of 
the honor of his former position, and until 
he might at some future time see a way to 
restoring his money to the power of the 
church, he preferred to live a simple life.' 

" 'Since his downfall it has always been his 
hope to use the gold of the church to raise 
sorne boy into a position similar to the one 
which had been his. For years he scanned 
the faces of the boys of the town, and when 
I told him, at the time when you first came 
to this school, that your parents hoped to 



180 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

make provisions for your education fitting 
you for a high position in the church, he 
took special notice of you at your play when- 
ever he passed the school. On the morning 
of the publishing of the news of the terrible 
sea-disaster, he was reading about it and 
asked a boy named Jacques if you were in 
the school yard playing, as it was his inten- 
tion to ask me to impart the news gently. 
Jacques very quietly designated you among 
the boys, and he saw by your liveliness that 
you had no knowledge of your trouble. He 
knew that I was not at the school that day, 
and no power lay with him on that account 
to gently break the news to you. But he 
came to me as soon as I had returned from 
a little vacation I was taking, to ask about 
you. Now he asks me to tell you that I 
know he is a good man, and that he wishes 
to take the position of your guardian and 
protector, and that he will always love you 
and your sister, if you will come and live 
with him and me in a beautiful new home 
which he has bought in town. For his part, 
he intends to take a great interest in the po- 
litical life of the town, trying to use his 
influence to right any wrongs he may per- 
ceive.' 

"I answered very promptly, 'I have found 
out during this long illness that you are the 
loveliest lady I have ever known next to my 
mother, and if you say this is as it should 
be for Marie and me, I am willing to trust 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 181 

you.' The priest had taken the posture of 
prayer at the foot of my bed. But now sud- 
denly arose and fairly hugged me, his em- 
brace was so firm. But firmest of all came 
the words, 'You shall never regret your de- 
cision.' My recovery was rapid from that 
time. We were taken away from the school 
into a beautiful home. The best private tu- 
tors of the town were provided for us, my 
dear priest spending also much of his time 
instructing us. With the exception of the 
grief for our parents, there was not a ripple 
of trouble in the lives of Marie and myself 
for many years. During the winters, as it 
was quite cold in the mountainous region, 
our god- father and god-mother took us a few 
hundred miles away into a valley, famous for 
its beauty and warmth. Marie and I lived 
the happy life of birds in the sunshine and 
fresh air, in constant contact with the pure, 
clear, and fresh running waters of brooks 
and streams, sipping the honey of the dain- 
tiest flowers. 

"But in all my wanderings 

I never could see - 
As fair a flower 

As my Marie had grown to be. 

"The warmth of the valley was particularly 
improving to her delicate beauty. The blue 
eyes only looked the bluer beneath the dark 
hair, as the contrasting deep pink peach 
bloom of the cheeks was so near and with 



182 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

the accompaniment of a spirituelle figure, 
there was no dainty flower of the valley more 
beautifully constituted than she. I was a 
stalwart youth and expected, at the coming 
session, to enter one of the finest universities 
in the capital of a neighboring country. I 
knew that Marie had not been appraised of 
this, and as we sat together on a log near 
to some playful rivulets emanating from a 
spring nearby, I determined to tell her 
quietly and to talk to her gaily of the vaca- 
tion periods, when promises had been given 
to me that she should go to the grand city 
to enjoy the glimpses of the educational and 
social functions. We sat and murmured as 
the brook beyond the rivulets near us, and 
exchanged heart to heart sad thoughts of 
coming separation, and as I saw the gurgling 
stream beyond tumbling over rocks, I found 
myself quite unconsciously saying, 'But, I 
fear, Marie, that some one will pluck from 
me the daintiest of the flowers of this val- 
ley.' " 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 183 

Chapter 2. 

*The beautiful autumn tinges of the vines 
covered artistically the attractive architecture 
of the university buildings, situated in the 
outskirts of the very large city, which I was 
to consider my home for the major portion 
of time for a few years. I found my heart 
leaping and bounding with love for my Alma 
Mater, as I entered the office building to pre- 
sent the necessary papers for my introduc- 
tion. I was soon esconced to my perfect 
satisfaction, both in city lodgings and frater- 
nal environments. It had been my particular 
request from my god-father that he would 
allow me to board in the immense cosmo- 
politan city. My life had always been a 
quiet one, among few people and I was now 
at that commencing energetic age of man- 
hood, when I longed at times for life, energy, 
hurry, bustle, crowded streets flooded with 
light. He felt that he could trust that no 
evil would be my goal and accordingly dur- 
ing those Alma Mater years of my life, I 
satiated to the full my youthful bounding 
pulses, and when my ordination followed 
several years later, I was ready from obser- 
vation to estabish valuable reformatory 
measures for the City Charitable Relief 
Corps of which I had always been an hon- 
orary member from the time of my fresh- 
man initiation. 

"I had constant companionship during my 



184 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

collegiate years with a fraternal associate 
aspiring to be a priest. His intended trend 
of life combined with our mutual chord of 
fellowship led us into the same paths of life 
to a great degree. Our Charitable Corps was 
always an interesting subject of conversation 
to us. He had an attractive personality of 
a country foreign to mine. Heavy, grace- 
fully wavy hair enhanced the beauty of the 
dreamy intelligent expression of the eyes. 
Features which could only have been the 
dower of refined ancestry were his, and a 
slight well-knit, athletic figure. He was 
ever the same in his gentleness and attractive 
charm in meeting all people. It always 
seemed to me that he was specially consti- 
tuted in all ways for his intended life work. 
His voice had an enticing musical vibration. 
Sometimes I seem to hear it now, Elise, cor- 
respond with some of your exquisite tones 
which you render to me. Upon his first 
meeting of my loved Marie at Convocation, 
a chord from his lyre met corresponding 
notes. Her beauty was now enhanced when- 
ever his presence met hers. It seemed to be 
soul to soul from first meeting, and as her 
individuality had always been ethereal, that 
was now intensified. His attraction was al- 
ways greater when with her, as there always 
appeared even a more positive gentle ex- 
pression in the great charm of the eye, which 
was always his. My happiness was only sec- 
ondary to theirs. I loved him, Elise, next 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 185 

only to her. So that when the day came, 
only a few years later, that he bore her with 
his wings of love far away to a foreign land, 
even of snow and ice, I smiled gaily as I 
tied the marital knot, for I had just reached 
the commencement of my life's goal, and told 
them that all cold would forever vanish 
whenever they flew into its presence. 

"However, I had one fear for my adored 
sister, and that was her delicacy. I ex- 
tracted from him a promise bound with 
Friendship's chord, that should intimation of 
decline of strength ever become apparent to 
him, he would bring back to live with the 
donor until resuscitated the flower of our 
warm valley. Beautiful, frank, genial, 
brother-love letters came to me for a year.' 
Then, suddenly, I found myself with no let- 
ters at the accustomed intervals. I did not 
even wait to telegraph when I really felt 
there must be illness, but started post-haste 
for the two loved doves, which had been 
mine. It was a long journey. But I at 
last reached the snow and ice-bound clime 
for a part of the year, though for a time 
also, a warm gulf stream moderated the cli- 
mate. This was tHe frozen time of the year, 
and as I approached the monastery and 
church surrounded with pines growing out 
of • deep snow, one after another forming 
beautiful green pinnacle exterior adorn- 
ments beneath the many mounted stone 
spires of beautiful architecture high above, 



186 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

the resonant tones of a famous bell began 
to resound far and wide. In the distance 
forming a background to the church were 
high mist shrouded mountains, and the only 
path which led to the front curved about one 
side. It was broad and bricked, forming the 
top surface of one of the sloping sides of a 
gradually approaching rock abyss which 
when one reached the capacious arched 
church door in the front, was evident to the 
eye in all its rough, rocky beauty. 

"You know how susceptible I am to music, 
and I could not refrain even in my intense 
anxiety when this view burst suddenly upon 
me; I did stand for an instant peering over 
the rocky sides into the deep abyss beneath 
at a little stream of water gurgling and play- 
ing, lovingly caressing its rough rocky bed 
surface. 'My flower,' thought I, 'in its cold 
home.' This awakened me and I advanced 
quickly to the door. But just as suddenly 
the bells had changed in their sounds. By 
the time I had mounted the broad interior 
stone steps, which led me to a view of the 
altar church floor and dome, the death knell 
was sounding in its greatest solemnity from 
those resonant bells. I stood with my hands 
clasped at my back, a favorite position of 
mine in those days, facing the altar. I was 
stunned and dazed, for I had unconsciously 
imprinted on my memory the scene of peas- 
ant women with snow shoes, gay stockings 
of all colors, short skirts, and basque jack- 



THE FRENCH ^PRIEST 187 

ets edged with furs. Some led children by 
the hand similarly dressed with the excep- 
tion of the gayest neckerchiefs upon their 
heads. Babies with hoods of brightest hue 
were held close to the women. One of these 
women with baby with bright saffron hood 
and child with gay neckerchief fastened be- 
neath the chin, had particularly impressed 
me when I had first mounted the interior 
stone steps of the church, for I had dis- 
tinctly heard her say to the child of some- 
what advanced age, 'The mother is dead. 
But the baby boy is strong and stout, God 
bless him.' 

"The bells now ceased ringing. But their 
echoed resonance would not be stilled within 
my musical being, and I sought the monas- 
tery in my dazed condition. Yet I could not 
cast out that trusted chord of Friendship 
either, and I tried to chide myself for un- 
worthy thoughts. Instinctively and through 
slight inquiry, I very easily found an en- 
trance through the church to the monastery, 
and was at once directed to the Abbe's pri- 
vate apartment. The door happened to be 
slightly ajar, and telling my guide that I was 
a near relative from a foreign land, he 
seemed satisfied, and left me to enter at my 
pleasure without formal announcement. I 
was of a slighter build during those days 
than at present. But my shoulders were 
broad, and I had difficulty in entering the 
allowed embrasure without pushing the door 



188 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

further. But I made no sound on entering. 
I first noticed the paneled ceiHngs of the 
sanctuary, then the perfectly polished floor, 
and rug of beautiful pattern and weave, and 
then a plain, sturdy small table on four 
plain cut legs. Sitting in a chair of like de- 
scription was my old friend, his head re- 
clining on his outstretched arms covering 
nearly the entire surface of the table. He 
was attired in a black, loose flowing robe. 
All fears and signs were at last too much. 
I suddenly startled him by a firm, *Is it 
true?' Not agony and sorrow alone were 
pictured to me in the gaze forced without 
warning. But, immediately upon recognition, 
knowledge of not continuing the vibration of 
our chord of 'Friendship.' My friend died 
forever in that gaze. He fitted a very tiny 
key into the key-hole of a very small drawer 
in the table, and drew from it a small box. 
'Her Confession,' he said. 'She held it dur- 
ing her last hours and left it for you. I can 
only expiate by living and dying for the 
church. She had asked me from the first 
to keep our secret, she and I both hoping 
all would be well.' 'Her Confession' was 
simply her 'Rosary,' Elise. I have worn it 
ever since. Her last hours had been pray- 
ers as she had striven 'to kiss the Cross.' " 
The Abbe now suddenly paused in his 
narrative. Assuming a retrospective attitude, 
his chin resting in the palm of his hand no 
sound echoed from roof or rafter for a lit- 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 189 

tie time, except "tick-tock" from the old 
time clock. At last heaving a heavy sigh, it 
was like the sighing of the wind of the Au- 
tumn for the death of the beautiful summer, 
"Today," he continued, "I received the con- 
firmation of his intention. This letter with 
foreign post-mark, which has so disturbed my 
usual placidity, comes from his son, now a 
young man. He writes the history of these 
intervening years. 
"My dear Uncle, 

*T hope you will accept this title by which I 
am addressing you, though at the present 
time I am laboring under strained circum- 
stances. I am traveling at present in dis- 
guise. My father's demise happened a month 
since, while in exile for expression of views 
considered too broad to consistently meet 
vows to the Church. 

" *We have not had a stationary monasterial 
life for years on account of such clear ex- 
pression by him of his broad views. My 
ideas, sympathetically according with his, are 
causing me to be hunted as the hound. But 
Nature will correspond and I am as weary as 
he. 

" T am a French Peasant and appeal to you 
that you will make of me for a time a 
French Priest. Your refusal would bring 
exile and certain death to the son of a sister 
treasured dearly by you in youth. In hope, 
Frank.' " 

The Abbe now rising walked to his former 



190 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

place at the table, and placing the letter care- 
fully in a drawer, locked it and then walked 
to the stained glass windows, which had 
been closed to keep the chilly night breezes of 
the sea from entering the very large room. 
He suddenly threw them open, and turned 
to Elise asking her to herald the next morn 
by singing a song of a lark. "The night 
from the sea portends a beautiful morn, 
Elise, please sing for me." After having 
been refreshed by a draught of the invigora- 
ting sea-breeze, he advanced to the fire-place 
again from which were emanated the joyful 
strains of Elise. 

He was no longer of any slight build of 
youth, for the broad shoulders of former 
days were now fully rounded the same as 
his entire stature. But dignity of the great- 
est worth of character stamped his entire 
being, his corporosity simply seeming to mag- 
nify it. His loose flowing robe of beautiful 
color combination, and small, dark, tight fit- 
ting cap on the large round bald head, fully 
presented largess of being. The texture 
of the heart being the same, he now ventured 
a very delicate subject to Elise in harmony 
with it. She had finished her song and he 
addressed her cheerily, "My Meadow Lark, 
I am seeing you to-morrow enjoying the 
heather and the lovely weather. But do 
not think that no one sees that some one 
looks at thee admiringly. Loving eyes are 
devouring and aspiring that thee shall belong 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 191 

to them. A Count of a neighboring chateau 
has addressed me for you, EHse," now turning 
and gazing fixedly at her, as if to truly pene- 
trate a secret of her soul if it possessed. 
"But love for him, Dear, is it there?" he 
continued, dreamily regarding her now. "I 
cannot see it, I know, Elise, you need not 
tell me. The sword of our neighboring 
manor's Lord is not your corresponding 
chord. Under these circumstances, I feel that 
I can justly ask a commission of the Meadow 
Lark. The message of the French Priest's 
attire at the end of the long pier, when no 
gardener has yet turned his scythe, and the 
meadow lark's heart does not writhe." 

"The soft sea breeze 

Which has invigorated me 

Is wafting a French Peasant to his hie 

There must not be 

Lord of a neighboring manor. 

When to the Meadow Lark, 

He shall draw nigh." 

As she softly glided from the room, Tick- 
tock signaled the strokes of the midnight 
hour, as he beat them with his anvil, by 
marshaling an array of pictorial characters 
representing the history of the centuries of 
his country. The Abbe had left the fire-side 
at the retirement of Elise, and was arranging 
papers on the library table preparatory to 
silent commune of self consecrated to future 
ages. As soon as Tick-tock had given his 



192 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

command to the past ages to vanish, by de- 
claring that his words must now be the only 
accompaniment to the recording quill of the 
present age scratching in the second sands 
of time, the Abbe was completely absorbed in 
the harmony of his age with his being. His 
nature, which had always been consecrated to 
the furtherance of good had received the 
boon of the gold loving cup of poetry, and 
being once endowed it was now effervescent 
in its overflow of silent research of self, ac- 
companied by the tune of the strings of the 
musical instrument of the present age con- 
veyed to him by constantly reading each 
day's world's events. The belfry in the old 
tower was striking the hour of the earliest 
matins of the day, when the Abbe left the 
room to the sole occupation of Tick-tock, 
whose heart is not moved to an irregular re- 
sounding by the emotional trickery of any 
age. But a heart of love in its beat of time 
had been moved to a fluctuating pulse by 
Tick-tock's regular poundings. 

"The Heart of the Fairy Copper Tick-tock." 

'Twas locked in the cavern 
Of an antique French clock. 
It worked in harmony 
With a poet of the age. 
When he with his key 
Knew that its time should be 
The accompanying chords 
To his own heart's pulse song. 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 193 

He unlocked the Door, 
That the Httle man in his rage 
Might proclaim by poundings 
He was out of his cage ; 
Accompaniment to 
The tune of this age, 
He would help free the oppressed 
As in fairy adage. 

With fairies he will forever 
Work, and walk, and talk. 
But he can never live, 
As his heart is a sieve 
That cannot even hold 
Life's second of time. 
Marching forward with others 
To fill Father Time's well. 

He is not adamantine 
To any wicked deed ; 
In his walk continues 
Each century to feed ; 
Tick-tock, Tick-tock 
He will forever proclaim. 
This is forever his talk ; 
From his words is his name. 



194 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

Chapter 3. 

THE AWAKENING. 

Sunrise 

A golden ball is merging 

Into an azure cloud, 

It has dispelled night's black veil 

As reflection allowed. 

The lower sphere is of 

Beautiful roseate hue ; 

The upper is of gold 

Riding in the azure blue. 

Reflection's tinges paint clouds 

Above azure blue sky, 

'Tis in Heaven's high blue 

They are slowly riding by. 

They now receive the roseate. 

The gold and azure, 

The sun loves its companions 

In beauty to immure. 

Rose of ball turns gold 

As it rises in azure band, 

Full golden and rides by 

And in light blue takes its stand 

As the fast flying birds 

Vivid shades it then dispels. 

Silver ball set in blue 

To most of bright colors death knells. 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 195 

Like a silvery moon 

It shines in the light blue sky, 

And then floats into 

A light yellow cloud close by ; 

'Tis a pure white ball 

In this color cloud atmosphere, 

Then plays hide and seek 

Neath the vari-colored clouds near. 

It hides itself 

In a slightly azure clouded sky. 

Sends down orange reflections 

To light cloud which are nigh; 

It very quickly dispels 

Its azure hiding place. 

Golden rays drive 

The azure chariot color race. 

The fast flying azure 

At once loses its first place; 

Increasing lighter blue 

Is not loath to hold its base ; 

Light yellow and purple tinge 

Give it a slight graze ; 

White wins morning's cup 

By sun's gaze shining through light haze. 

Each side of the peaked roof of the chapel 
was surmounted by a tower of similar archi- 
tecture but not of corresponding height. 
Rising from the more lofty tower, a gilt cross 
gleamed far and wide with the rising sun. 
Peering from the small windows of this 



196 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

pagoda-like structure at dawn was the Abbe's 
"Meadow Lark," From her vantage point 
the beautiful reflective colorings of the rising 
sun were soon her own, as well as the sight 
of the sailing freight vessel riding in the dis- 
tant waves of the sea. Successively directing 
her gaze from directly opposite windows 
from one enjoying the exquisite colorings 
which only the heavens can perfectly portray, 
and from the other indulging in all of "une 
jeune fille's" dreams of romance of chivalrous 
attractions of manhood traveling in disguise, 
suddenly her reveries fell from their richly 
painted atmosphere to the gleaming grassy 
sheaves beneath in the distance. She knows 
that "le vieux jardinier" will soon be using his 
scythe and talking idly meanwhile, as she so 
often sees him with her **Lord of the Neigh- 
boring Manor." All of her actions will be 
quickly comprehended by My Lord through 
the early rising jardinier. 

Over the meadow 
Through the gleaming sheaves I shall hie, 

To hide his scythe 
In a far distant bush I shall fly 

When I meet a French Peasant 
My Lord shall not be nigh. 

Mon vieux jardinier 
Shall hunt for his scythe through the rye; 

Neither shall gossip 
But be compelled to say good-by. 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 197 

Flitting about the spiral staircases of the 
tower, she escapes through an open stained 
glass door leading to a portico with balus- 
trade and adjoining descending steps to 
earth's grassy embrasure, and as a bright 
echo of song she wends the grassy and gilded 
sheaves and lights upon a scythe, the point 
of which is sticking into a neighboring gar- 
den-fence. Nimbly holding on to her coveted 
prize, she hesitates for a minute in the 
gilded sheaves, looking once again in the far 
distance for the "Ship Coming In." 

"A MEADOW LARK." 

In the mild plumage of peasant attire, 
Gracefully coiled golden hair is her crown 
A waistcoat, blouse, and a short skirt she 

wears 
Bare feet and limbs are bathed in morning 

dew. 

Humanity's jewelled bird of earliest morn, 
From all the world's conventionalism torn, 
Happiest of all in her simplicity born. 
She is of all that is unnatural shorn. 

With this powerful scythe in her hand, 
Children love the bird in every land. 
Her shrill song wakes all to lovely morn, 
Her garments rustle with tasseling corn. 

As if of a sudden current of air she is 



198 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

aware, she gently bears down the high corn- 
stalks, gracefully her weight is carried to- 
ward the sea, in a bush near the end of a 
corn-field her scythe vanishes. 

She mingles with the chilly breezes of the 
white morn, Hears of the "Ships' Coming" 
by the sound of the fog horn. 

Peering beneath the stone bridge, she picks 
a treasure from a hiding place therein, 
placing large peasant slippers on her feet, 
she swiftly paces the stone bridge, wondering 
if it might be that her fate she should meet. 

A bearer of a French Priest's attire 
By the wishes of a much "Loved Sire." 

Leaning on the broad sill 
Of lighthouse windows she wavers, 
Slight haze and distant fog 
Of danger slightly savors ; 
But with a bird's keen eye 
Of all that pertains to sky 
Out of fog she sees the ship 
From fear's zone riding by. 

Tremulously she waits 

With her morning flute; 

But as the "Ship Comes In" 

The birds view each other mute; 

With corresponding music 

Each nature vibrates, 

Inspiring songs 

Which are to each other mates. 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 199 

True love's sweet song, 
Vibrating on a golden harp, 
Might sometime be caught 
In fishermen's net as carp; 
Beware, take care, 
French Peasant and Priest disguise ; 
Neighbor, Chateau Lord 
Might who you are surmise. 

The vaulted roof of the Abbe's library 
echoed with the sweet songs of birds during 
succeeding months. The gilded harp's tuned 
accompaniment lent its harmony to the musi- 
cal vibrations of hours of cherished com- 
panionship. After several weeks had de- 
lightfully slipped away, an early call of her 
"Neighboring Lord" was heralded to Elise 
by the Abbe. She knew that he had been 
traveling during the past months, but ex- 
pressed no surprise when his card slipped 
fromx the Abbe's hand, as she and Franz sat 
by the golden harp. With courtesy the 
strangers met and the evening hours were 
with pleasure lent by the narratives of his 
lordship's late travels. A very cordial in- 
vitation was extended for an evening near at 
hand to be spent by the Abbe with Elise and 
the "French Priest" at Le Comte's Chateau. 
Plumed chevaux arrived a little time before 
the appointed hour to conduct the guests to 
the "palais." The "French Priest" had never 
heard from Elise any mention of Le Comte 
previous to their first meeting. 



200 THE FRENCH P^RIEST 

During these twilight hours, as they were 
conducted with pomp and chivalry, through 
jardins of beautif action by many past genera- 
tions, of collective historical sculpture inter- 
mingled with playing stone fountains with 
balustraded summer houses surrounding, en- 
hancing the natural beauty of trees of ancient 
lineage, flowering bushes of many varieties, 
perfectly trimmed hedges and carpets of 
grass with garden paths intermingled, his 
heart found against its will a slight flavor of 
possible rivalry. He could never offer as be- 
longing to him beauty so perfectly suited to 
her own, as he gazed enviously at her in at- 
tire of exquisite outline. But the honesty of 
her loving gaze, whenever their eyes met, 
haunted him and he felt that it would be a 
reproach of his own soul to hers, if he har- 
bored for a minute an unexpressed harrassing 
thought. With a keen eye to the fact that 
the Abbe was slightly nodding, and that the 
many balustrades of the piazzas of the 
palais were within a stone's throw, he im- 
pulsively hurled out of its conscience stricken 
eddying whirlpool with a naive inquiry in the 
French language of, 

"All in all, forever, Elise?" 
With Cupid's dart 
Cleaving her heart 
The form it graced 
Adorer embraced, 
With shake of dice 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 201 

In the next trice, 
She steps the stone 
Count's carpeted throne. 

The Abbe's momentary nodding concluded, 
the next instant birds of the Hghtest heart 
the Comte's domains. With the gilt leaf of 
the harp showered upon her, Elise had never 
been so entrancing. The joyful ripple of her 
laughter assisted Le Comte in a strategic 
entre nous. "Your spirit seems composed 
this evening of the metal of the bright fish of 
Le Conservatoire. I recently brought from 
my travel some fine specimens of gold fish. 
Possibly, Mademoiselle might wander there 
with me, as Father Evere has conducted his 
friend for a few minutes to see the season's 
horses." Apologizing for this sudden depart- 
ure to the lady, an elderly aunt, who had 
graced his table as hostess, he successfully 
bore Elise to the beautiful gold-fish foun- 
tain. Neath the palms surrounding he re- 
peatedly lay at her feet the grace of his 
beautiful dominion. But just as often she 
met him with quiet but firm refusal, and 
very keenly watching him detected bitter, 
revengeful lines searing his countenance. 
With chivalry, however, he conducted her to 
his hostess, but not in time for their absence 
to. not be noticed by Father Evere, who had 
previously returned with the "French Priest." 

Near to a crumbling sea wall was the cot- 
tage belonging to the jardinier of the monas- 



202 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

tery. Damp night sea-breezes were being 
blown into an upper bed-room window on the 
second floor. At intervals, laboring for 
breath, the jardinier's wife was attended by 
one of the visiting nurses of the monastery. 
She bent low over the emaciated form, listen- 
ing intently, endeavoring to gain intelligence 
from words, many of which were inaudible. 
With enduring patience she felt the feebly 
beating pulse and finally softly breathed, "May 
God help me to relieve this woman's last mo- 
ments by confession. I think that she desires 
to speak some one's name." She bent closer to 
hear the faint words, "Ma — selle E—lise." 
Administering a stimulant she determinedly 
left the room and descended a small stair- 
case, despatching a grandson of le jardinier 
for Father Evere and his protege. The 
flickering low light of an oil-lamp cast dis- 
mal reflections, when a little later Elise knelt 
at the death bed of a woman to whom she 
had rendered kindness since childhood. The 
Abbe stood at her side with his hand resting 
on "la jeune fille's" golden head, as he 
watched one wrestling with the throes of 
Death to impart knowledge almost irrevo- 
cably interwoven. From his heart a prayer as- 
cended that the weakened Light of Life 
might cast its last rays of intelligence. Ere 
long the Lamp of Life went out, painting with 

tongue of fire the words, "Strange men 

French Priest Arrest." Meanwhile a 

flaming bony finger had pointed in the di- 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 203 

rection of the hall-way from which the 
noise of loud, stumbling, uncertain steps of 
the intoxicated jardinier was desecrating the 
silence of the room of his wife at last 
guarded by that ominous visitor, Death, which 
forever holds a repellant hand to all save 
the Angels of Everlasting Life guarding its 
tomb. 

In prayers and deep thought Father Evere 
awaited the entrance of the jardinier. Sig- 
nalling silence to Elise, he approached the 
doorway where "le vieux homme" entered, and 
laid his hand heavily on his shoulder. The 
sudden movement caused his wretched being 
to shiver with fright. But it had the desired 
effect of bringing about consciousness to 
reality. His stupid stare was dissipated in- 
to one of fear, as he looked from the Abbe 
toward the lifeless form of "sa Vielle femme." 
But possessed by his life-time demon, he 
thought but of himself, knowing at once that 
she must have gained knowledge of and di- 
vulged the plot, of which he had allowed him- 
self to become a part, induced by men who had 
indulged him in his worst enemy and enticed 
him. "She always would spy into my af- 
fairs," he muttered, almost unintelligibly. 
But this only had the effect of having the 
Abbe's hand laid yet more heavily on him, 
and the force was accompanied by au- 
thoritative words, "Wretched man that you 
now are, 'votre vielle femme' has been all 
that has stood between you and prison for 



204 THE FRENCH PRIEST 

many years. For her sake I have kept you 
from going there. Now, once again, by her 
last pleading for you, her confession to us, 
she will save you, if you tell us all that you 
know of this intrigue. Fear was beginning 
to lose its awakening power over the human 
being, who had lived a great part of his life- 
time under the influence of intoxication. 
The plotting men had so thoroughly done 
their work that the Abbe divined that in a 
few minutes stupor would again ascend the 
throne of reason. "Quick," said he, "Tell 
the place of arrest and the time." He was 
now flinching under the Abbe's grasp and ab- 
jectedly muttered, "At dawn, I was to bring 
him here with Ma'selle Elise to see 'ma vielle 
femme' dying." 

Disgust for the duplicity of the creature in 
his grasp could not be altogether kept from 
evincing itself in the Abbe's countenance, 
even beneath his self control after many ex- 
periences with erring humanity. It was but 
a light shadow, however, which quickly 
vanished. Then he loosened his hold on le 
jardinier, and approached the visiting nurse, 
who had returned and was flitting usefully 
about the room. Le jardinier stumbled across 
the floor until he fell heavily into a large 
chair where he lay in stupor. "Ma Soeur," 
said Father Evere rapidly, "there is no time 
to be lost. S'il vous plait, Retournez avec 
Mademoiselle Elise to the monastery and as- 
sist her in packing a steamer trunk. I shall 



THE FRENCH PRIEST 205 

hasten to apprise the French Priest of his 
danger. Wary though the fox may be he is 
*quelquefois' at bay. However, I know an 
avenue of escape. A large boat Hes near to 
the crumbhng sea-wall, which may be rowed 
to a shore landing, from which a short walk 
through woods leads to a railroad which 
wends its way toward ocean travel. This 
intrigue, which has undoubtedly been further- 
ed by Le Comte's desire that his request of 
Elise's hand in marriage will be granted by 
me, has blocked us from all public roads of 
travel. We must act before dawn." La 
Soeur quickly glided from the room with 
Elise whose pale face was lit with an ex- 
pression of perfect trust in her loved Father 
Evere. He shook the jardinier sufficiently 
to awaken him, and told him to follow him, 
as he needed assistance. Ere long the boat 
sped from the dark shore with the disguised 
Priest and Elise, who had received the bene- 
diction of Father Evere as man and wife, 
to meet in the Light of Day the ship bound 
for the foreign land which harbors Liberty, 
Equality, Fraternity (The Brotherhood of 
Man). 



